So Near Yet So Far
by Moiranne Rose
Summary: The two lovers haven't taken any steps to find each other again. Their daemons give them a little push forward. And what's Love without conflict, adventure and a dash of new allies and enemies? Chapter 29 is up!
1. Many Bitter Partings

So Near, Yet So Far

Two adolescents, sitting under the shade of leafy trees and bushes, nearly blending into the foliage of the greens and browns, watched the open waters. Their hearts were wracked with sorrow and pain as they struggled with the truth. They were not meant to be and they, no matter how much they wanted to could never be together.

Pantalaimon flowed, sleek and powerful, up Lyra's arm to rest comfortably around her neck, and tried in vain to lift her sorrow. He shared a futile glance with Kirjava, who resided in Will's lap, patting his leg and purring soothingly. They both knew a secret that held aid to their sorrow but they could not say it, having made a promise not to tell till the time came.

"Will, I wish we could stay like this forever!"

"I know, but tomorrow the gyptians will arrive and soon after, we part ways forever."

"I will wait for you. I know we have to try to act like this never happened but it is too beautiful and terrible a time to forget."

They shared one last embrace and they got up to go back. Through their tears, they missed the glance between the two daemons. The knowing glance that was shared bonded the two daemons with the secret they would hold till their humans were ready.

For twenty years, they kept their promises; the secret was locked in the deepest, darkest parts of their heart. They told not a soul. Their humans, Will and Lyra diligently did their work, making sure one and all knew about the Republic of Heaven. Their own private work was the same, they did it with conviction and zeal, but neither could spend a moment not thinking of their beloved, probably so close yet so far.

Their daemons knew that the time was near to tell, but they still needed to be more detached from their "impossible lover". The time to tell was almost upon them, but not quite.

They remembered the last words of Xaphania on their first encounter with the angel. _"You will know when the time comes. But you cannot tell any sooner_." She had said in the ancient language of the daemons. They intended to break it at first but they realised that if Will and Lyra met again, they would never do the work they had to do. So they had to make do with an hour each year, at least, just for the while.

The ancient language could transcend the worlds and was heard by the receiver crystal clear. They went with their humans and sat at the bench under the old tree. While the humans pretended talked to each other, Pan and Kirjava climbed the tree to the hollow in the trunk, speaking to each other in a way that humans had long forgotten.

They would relax into a calm concentration and then start to speak in the voice of old, explaining eagerly what they had done that past year and listening to the voice of their counterpart.

The language was musical and involved hard concentration to hold the bond. The more they tried the better they became, and soon, Pantalaimon and Kirjava were sneaking out more and more often to talk with their lover across the worlds.

Lyra knew this was not her first time doing this. Gyptians were defending their possessions against brutal Muscovites who were pillaging and looting all over the country. It was another scuffle that was escalating into a bloody battle. Lyra had always been the one to parley for peace. She, wrapped in her furs and her daemon safely by her, struggled through the harsh winds and snow to the boats. There was a chorus of yells in unintelligible language followed by the crash of swords. She hurried onward; she had to stop them from this once and for all.

Lyra was a well known figure in her world. At thirty-three, she was able to command most people's respect. She rushed to the first boat and with Pantalaimon safe on her shoulder; she swung up the rope at the side of the boat.

Lyra took stock of the situation. For sure this was one of the stupidest scuffles they had had for the past six months. They were arguing and shouting and clashing with fists and weapons, all rolled together in a hullabaloo of a fight. There were too many men to figure out what it is they were doing but she trusted in her reputation and in her firm, authoritative voice. This spanned all three long boats.

She spied the elderly Lord Faa, in a room off the deck, gesturing and loudly demanding something from the Muscovite general, Harvesh. She knew him from previous encounters and knew he was here again, to take the gyptians' stock of carp and garoupa they had fished for the past year. Harvesh's daemon Jinniva was locked in battle with the crow of John Faa.

She hooked her arm on the rope, trying to steady herself, and raised her voice to be heard over the din. All heads turned to the recognized lady, who passionately started,

"Why do you fight over these trivial matters? Did you not hear our pledge everyday, said in rousing voices and utmost conviction that everyone is a brother or sister in this land and no one will be hated by another as we all live in harmony? However, I know that these ideals mean less than nothing to you. You are blatantly showing that you are simply not worthy to live in this land. All of you, Gyptians and Muscovites, have never ceased this pointless battle and I have to jump in to save all your worthless lives. Maybe I should have let you go on fighting, but why not? Because I know that this place, this city, Oxford, is worth throwing myself into battles, to uphold the values we hold dear to us, in the hope that you may once and for all shake hands and be peaceful once more."

Her long and tiring speech took the fighters' breaths away. She held on to the rope, keeping her footing as she glared at them with a fiery passion in her eyes. Ma Costa had told her gyptians were water people. She knew the Muscovites were wind people and she herself was a fire person. Wind and water could put out a fire but if the fire was strong, it could withstand any amount of the two. Her eyes and her stance were full of that fire and she had shaken them out of their foolishness.

Lord Faa was out of the room already. He looked at her proudly through his aged eyes and smiled at her. The little girl had grown and matured into a beautiful lady. She made him proud to have known her personally. She smiled at him too before whisking down the rope and into the night.

Lyra walked home to Jordan College and instead of the normal stairs, she climbed up the tree next to it. After graduating from St. Sophia's School, she had taken her books, with her aleithiometer and settled back into the college she had grown up in.

She immediately went to her desk and opened the heavy manuscripts. She laboriously asked the question she asked every night. She interpreted the answer and smiled, Will and Kirjava were safe and happy, living with Mary Malone in her apartment, after she had gotten back her license, something Lyra did not know of.

She asked the aleithiometer. It explained to her that the license was like a permit to work as something. She nodded, understanding. She thought back to her dear, dear Will. She knew he was probably asleep or starting to doze off. She relived that short time of pure happiness. That would be treasured by her always.

Before she settled down into bed, she did what she had always done. She imagined a short conversation between Will and herself, ending with a goodnight. She faced the window and knew that Will Parry would be having the same beautiful full moon and starry sky. She grinned and slept.

A/N: Thanks for taking time out to read! Do review. I know how miserable it is to leave you all unknowing of what happens, I promise I will have the next chapter in tomorrow or the day after. As long as you all REVIEW! nah no need actually

A/N 2: To all you 6Kers, cheers for next year and PSLE IS OVER!!!!!!!


	2. But Still, We Move On

Will Parry rushed out of the house, at breakneck speed. "Ahhh!!! Late again!"

Mary tsked him out of the door as he ran for the cab that had been impatiently waiting for him. Today was the big day. And he was about to be late. So late.

He had known that he needed to get up earlier but preparing the script for today had meant writing into the dead of night and then knocking out on the table. In the mad flurry in the morning, he had rushed out of the house with a cold bagel stuffed into his mouth and his briefcase lid clipping and crumpling his script that had cost him all of this.

He rushed into the cab and spat out the address of the conference. He sighed, sure his job was good and all but he really needed a break from it at times. Leaning his head against the headrest, he absentmindedly stroked Kirjava's disheveled fur. The other hand was lying protectively over his briefcase. This was going to be one of the worst days of his life.

He got to the hall in time to see the big doors all closing. He snuck round the outside and scooted into the side entrance. The usher waited for the emcee to look away and pushed him towards his seat. He thankfully took it and smoothed down his windswept hair. He looked at the first speaker mounting the stand to try and make himself feel less like an intruder. He missed o course the feline carefully making her way down the aisle and rushing off to a particular tree in a particular part of town.

3 minutes. 3 minutes till he made the biggest fool of himself. He had just realized that in his morning drowsiness, he had printed not his precious script but instead the recipe on Mediterranean Cuisine Mary was experimenting on. He ha just 3 lousy minutes to compose himself and he was not prepared. Will Parry hated being unprepared.

He mounted the stand like how a man on death row walks to the gallows. He fidgeted with his lapel in a bad imitation of someone trying to look smart. His legs had barely got him there and he stuttered out a faint good morning while trying to pull some points out of his blank mind. He steeled himself not to umm but his first few sentences were punctuated with more umms and hmms than he had ever used in his life.

"The human mind is a gift we all have. We all depend on it to think, to talk, and to form relationships. Our thinking, our analysis, is most precious to us. Why should we allow our minds to rot in the depths of misuse? Knowing feeling and believing are the only things that keep us bound to the earth.

Our feelings should not be shelved when tackling a problem and character not restrained when dealing with others. Allow them to penetrate to the fullest, having a free rein to prance and gallop all over our being. In everything, we should take into account all of what we are made of, and everything that matters to us. Closing our minds is like rejecting this wonderful gift, this fantastic offer. Live life with open hearts and embrace the world with all its riches."

He continued speaking, more than just words, he felt amazing to speak from experience and he felt the same feather-light feeling he had when he was with Lyra. Hmm...Lyra. He hadn't thought about her in such a long time. She was like a bruise that had faded away but still hurt to touch it. He smiled slightly, thinking of her, as he closed his speech with a reiteration of his motto, "Live today like there's no tomorrow, and live tomorrow like there's no yesterday."

It was a load of his back as he walked down the stairs at the side of the stage. They all knew of his degree in psychology, of his wondrous effects on most that had gone for his counseling. But this, this was a message from the bottom of his heart. The audience in one accord jumped to their feet and madly applauded him to his seat. He bowed again and again and they were instantaneously jumping for pictures and answers to all sorts of irrelevant questions. It was just that there was this tugging question in his own head which had been hanging around for the whole day.


	3. Secret Meetings Occur

"Pan?"

"Kirjava?"

It always started like that. The two would start their conversation by doing what they had done some many times before. Their beings reached out, wrapping, entwining each other's soul, joined closer than any other pair of beings. Their thoughts flowed over each other's and their conversation, as it was ethereal and intangible, was more of knowing than talking. They knew exactly what each was going to say, and what they were going to do and what they wanted each other to understand. The sheer understanding that flowed through them, between them, joining them, was pure unadulterated love and devotion. It was just what Xaphania had said. Love, the greatest bond known to man or daemon. It bonded through life, through love found, love treasured, and love triumphant. It descended to the depths of the underworld with the lost love, the pangs that filled the heart, the aches from the bruise of losing someone you cared so strongly about. That was true love.

That was why, Pantalaimon and Kirjava knew in their hearts the safety of the other. Their souls were tied together for eternity, making it possible for them to converse through worlds, since love could even go where no one could ever go, other than Will and Lyra.

This was how Pantalaimon knew, in the split second Kirjava knew it herself, that something was troubling her. Something, that little pause and the slight downward tugging of the feline features, it made him look at her concerned. She was anxious and scared. He allowed himself to listen to her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions.

"Oh Pan...this morning, something terrible happened! It was just like the feeling that Will was being torn away from me all over again. Except it wasn't from us. It was from a girl was just walking down the street across the road. She looked so happy, then --It was so sudden-- she just had this look of pure agony, like if she had been stabbed. Except it looked deeper than that. She looked like she had been through emotional turmoil. Oh Pan, it was just like how Will and Lyra looked just as they got that distance away from us. Their faces...oh horror of horrors Pan! Then she had this look of pure serenity, blankness. She looked as if the very flame within her had been snuffed out!"

"Was it Specters? They do that too!"

"No no! It was more than that. Not just nausea. It was like something was pulling her daemon away, dragging it tearing away her bond with her daemon. But it was not like for us. She didn't look like she had become a witch or anything! It was like the daemon had been ripped away and then replaced by a doll. Like how you described those nurses in that Experimental Unit in Bolvangar! Just blank looks and blind obedience! Will didn't see it, neither have I told him... It pains me Pan! As much as it hurts me to be torn away from Will that terrible time in the world of the dead, it was nothing compared to what it felt seeing it happen to her. I was helpless, knowing exactly what was happening to her and I couldn't do anything!"

"Wait, now that you mention it...something like that happened a few days ago. It was to a Scholar. She had these spasms and this horrible pained expression and then she just continued eating! I was the only one who had seen! Even Lyra didn't see! But the strangest thing was that her daemon, I swear, it was this golden lizard and then it was so slight, but the lizard suddenly became dull in colour. Like a plain bronze colour, not the brilliance of the gold or even the brightness of copper! Just this strange brown colour! I couldn't believe it! It was so unexpected! And she just went on eating!"

"I know! Should we tell Lyra and Will?"

"No, not yet I guess. The time will come. Do you think that these beings are some sort of morph of the Specters? They are so similar...yet so different..."

"You're right Pan, let's not tell them yet then..."

"Okay, but we need to research on this, I'll see if I can dig up something good from the Scholars' Library at Jordan. You need to go and see those mythical creatue books you were talking to me about a few days ago."

"Sure Pan, so it's goodbye for now."

"See you around Kirjava."

"Bye."

With that, the two came out of their hiding places, and hurried back to their humans, hoping and praying they hadn't missed them while they were conversing.


	4. When Pulled Out of Them

Lyra woke up to blessed warm day. Not many days were like this in the harsh winters of Oxford. The winds were chilly swords which dug their way to the bone and the snow often turned to rock hard hailstones which left people with bruises all over their uncovered faces and hands. She rose from her bed and pulled on a mink coat, one of her mother's (It was difficult to remember that Mrs. Coulter was her mother, since from young, she had believed her parents to be dead, not making discoveries of far off lands). She opened the window and looked out to the square below. As a Scholar in Jordan College, she had her own room in the west wing of the massive grounds. The room, which looked over the parade grounds, was an excellent room to be by herself. Given that the west wing had been newly set up, and not many Scholars had moved in yet, she enjoyed the peace and quiet which she had detested as a child. However, she still enjoyed climbing onto the rooftop to relax and study her books. She slipped on her boots and buttoned up the mink, carrying with her the precious aleithiometer and her manuscripts to pore over. She climbed onto the ledge just outside her window, and grasping onto the roof gutter, she pulled herself up without too much effort. She cleared a spot of the snow-laden roof and sat down, putting her head against the chimney pot. She looked around her.

"Pan?"

"Heh heh...hi Lyra-"

"Pan! You little beast! Where were you? I spent the WHOLE night worrying! Out with those tomcats from next door? Or was it running off to St Sophia's to steal some of the mince-meat pies like last week?! PANTALAIMON! Don't you DARE do that again!"

Lyra glared at him while she caught her breath. He cowered under her gaze.

"Repeat after me: I-"

"I"

"Will-"

"will"

"Never-"

"never"

"Let-"

"let"

"Myself-"

"myself"

"Out-"

"out"

"Of-"

"of"

"Lyra's-"

"Lyra's"

"Sight-"

"sight"

"Ever."

"ever."

"Good, now that you've sworn to it, you better keep it, or you're deader than the skulls in the basement."

Pantalaimon gulped.

He hoped Kirjava hadn't had as bad a time as ha had.

Hopefully.

A/N: SO sorry that this is so short, but I promise PROMISE that the next chapter will be out once my exams finish on thursday so STICK AROUND!!


	5. Surreal Encounters Happen

Will woke up to a bright sunny morning with the sun's rays heating up his already sun burnt face. Though it was winter, the sun was often strong enough to burn your face as it reflected off the snow. He rose and splashed water on h face to wake himself up further. He pulled on a jumper over his t-shirt and a pair of trackpants. He ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, though careful not to wake Mary up, lest bare her half awake wrath. He grabbed some sandwiches he had made and chilled the night before and put them in a picnic basket along with a carton of orange juice. He was going to the Oxford College campus to meet his old professor who had lent him invaluable guidance when he had come into Oxford more than two semesters late for his psychology course. Professor Souris or Professor Mouse as his nickname went, was about as mouse like as anyone could get. He had white hair from old age and a small pointed nose, with eyes which gleamed like shiny opals. His ears were bigger than the average and stuck out, which made him look like an elf. His way of teaching with a muffin or a cookie or a piece of gum or a bite of sandwich in his mouth, while encouraging students to take too was his unique way of making them think while they eat and give them something to turn over in their heads as well as their mouths. He had realized that many of the scholars were restless in the classroom and also listless due to lack of time to eat and sleep. Due to this, he started bringing in snacks for the students to munch on while tackling problems.

Will loved his old professor like the father he had lost from so young. Though Will always remembered his father in his heart, he had come to cherish his dear professor's anecdotes as learning points and "bedtime stories" as he often thought about them before he slept. So after leaving the college with his PhD, he had always gone back on Saturdays to listen to his favourite professor, whom he had long been a head taller, speak of his life and his way of living it. To him, Will had come the closest to telling about Lyra. Will had also taught him how to see his daemon, Sylvia, a mouse with white fur which was gold-flecked at the tips. Kirjava always had fun playing with her.

After setting off from his home, Will jogged towards the college and passed through the Botanic Gardens. Often, when he was earlier, he would stop and sit at that bench, under the snow-laden tree or when leaves fell golden and red during the fall, or when it shaded him from the sun in summer, or the spring rain. He had come to think of it as a sanctuary, for thinking and reflection. Looking at his new digital watch he had picked up for himself, he realised he was slightly ahead of time, which was unusual. He jogged up to the bench and was surprised to see someone else already there.

Or rather, a very cold, covered with snow, yet unmistakeably...

"Kirjava?"

"Huh? Oh er...hi?"

"Oh man! Kir! You caused me my life out there yesterday! And all you can come up with is 'er...hi'?!"

"Sorry man but I had to go off and talk with..."

"With WHO?! Someone which you hold in higher regard then the one who holds your soul?!"

"I said I was sorry! And anyway, its YOUR soul that I am you know..."

"Ahh...I'm going to be late again for my meet with Professor Souris! Just swear you won't EVER do that again!"

"Yeah okay, I swear I won't do that again, okay mister?"

"Fine! Now hurry up!"

The two scrambled their way through the fresh snow, Kirjava bounded daintily on top of the snow, while Will sank with every step. He made it to the college just at the appointed time, with a couple of moments just to compose himself and lay out the egg sandwiches, cups of apple juice, and sausages he had warmed up after they were cooked the night before. His professor appeared at the door, in his wheelchair, though not because he was crippled. Professor Souris liked to be in a wheelchair because "he would always have a seat with him at all times". He had a large patchwork quilt his last batch of pupils had made for him in that year and had Sylvia in his jacket pocket. His wrinkled face lit up with joy as he wheeled himself to the small table in the veranda, at which Will stood. He hugged Will warmly and reached for an egg sandwich at the same time. Well, you couldn't separate him from food. He took a large bite out of his sandwich and asked, while egg pieces flew from his mouth, Will how his week was.

"Oh sir, it was fine...until I gave that speech at that conference I told you about the other day. Also I have been seeing things. Just at the edge of my being. Like when you look straight at the carton of juice, you can see the egg sandwiches with the corner of your eye..."

"Ahh...my boy, what did you see?"

"Some flashing symbols, umm...there was a young girl, in pain, though I can't, for the life of me, find out what caused her pain, and then a fash of gold and red and then a tree and a bench, but in spring..."

"Hmmm...maybe they're some memories?"

"Oh no, I've never seen these things before..."

"Maybe...wait, can you feel Kirjava's feelings and thoughts?"

Will turned slightly to Kirjava who played with Sylvia about ten feet away.

"Well, I don't really feel it like a separate being, it's like it's happening to me too, at the same time, but only for acute feelings, like pain, exhilaration and sadness..."

"Maybe those were Kirjava's memories...Do you think you can see what she's feeling now?"

"Maybe...let me see..."

He closed his eyes. He felt as if he was with the knife again, letting his consciousness wander around and feel for Kirjava's. All at once, he felt her pants as she ran after Sylvia, and her laughs, and even her plans to catch Sylvia off-guard by pouncing on her when she wasn't looking. All this was while he still had his thoughts and his view of Professor Souris in the foreeground with Kirjava's thoughts only at the corner of his eye.

"Professor! I can see it, all her thoughts and her feelings! How? Why?"

"I think it is because of the bond you both share and the innate ability to sense each others thoughts. I think though that you were probably thinking very hard then, about Kirjava right?"

"Well sir, I think it was when I was worrying about her, the first time was whether she was cold or not, then it was where she was and then..."

"Well I think you can do this when you can't find her, and...how to put it...look through her eyes? Find out if it looks familiar...My boy, you know more than I ever will about daemons, I think that whatever you will know, you will use it well, who am I to say differently?"

"Oh sir, you know you surpass me in what you know! But if possible, I would like to borrow some books on mythology, I have a feeling Kirjava might want them..."

"A feeling you say?"

"Yes, I don't even know why I can feel it, but I did, so may I take them out of the library?"

Professor Souris swept his hand towards the door, but chose to stay outside to "take in some air" before going in. Will picked up Kirjava, and headed for the library.

Halfway through the shelves and 5 thick, dusty books later, Will heard a hacking scream, that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a cough. He recognized it.

"Professor! Professor!"

He slid down the banister of the stone staircase to get to the bottom quicker, but by the time he reached the courtyard and shook his dear Professor's shoulder, the Professor looked up with eyes that were blank and uninterested. The light had gone from his eyes and he did not seem to register the fact that Will was even standing in front of him, let alone recognizing him. He just munced on his sandwich and looked into space.

"No! No!"

He turned his head wildly about to find Kirjava pawing the ground and letting out a wail of anguish. Sylvia was gone, in her place was a normal brown mouse, which lacked the glint in the eye and the frisky step. While she was alive and a rather striking resemblance of Sylvia, minus the eyes and the fur, she was most definitely a doll compared to Sylvia. Kirjava knew it was time to tell Will.

"Will? I think I have to tell you something..."

A/N: Oooooo...tum tum tum tum...cliffhanger for all of you

don't worry, I have ideas for the whole story and stick with me if you want to know what happens next!

yay

Moiranne Rose


	6. As One Piles Onto Another

Lyra walked her way through the snow covered grounds of the Jordan College. Pan nestled inside her fur coat and was quietly sleeping. She sank with each step but still managed to get to her room withoout freezing to death. She brushed past the maid who was cleaning the windows and went into her library. She moved aside three large tick books on Arctic Exploration to reveal a set of three dials and a small handle. Her deft fingers twirled the three dials to show the numbers 1, 3 and 4. She opened the cabinet that sat in the wall to reveal the gleaming golden surface of the aleithiometer. While she was getting better and memorizing more symbols' meanings each day, she still carried around her manuscripts for meanings which she had not yet come to know. She was going for her session with Dame Hannah at the St. Sophia College, a good 20 minute walk through the snow. Dame Hannah had over the years proven herself to be an excellent teacher and a kind and loving mentor. After her mother, Mrs. Coulter, who had died so that she might live, her dear Dame Hannah was the closest she had to a mother now.

Lyra took one of the heavy books which she had taken off the shelf and she slipped the small velvet-wrapped aleithiometer into her pocket. She brought the book out with her, pausing to steal an apple of the fruit bowl meant for the Master that was left on the maid's trolley. While she had grown up considerably from her younger, more mischievous days, the Master often found his fruit bowl missing an apple or a banana from time to time. She wrapped a scarf round her mouth and nose to block out the cold winds while she pulled her boots on and got Pan another scarf to keep himself warm. She trudged out of the door and up the road towards the St. Sophia's College. The grand cathedral at the start of the campus was home to three resident nuns and a traveling priest. While she had been against God at the start of her life, she had learnt that, He wasn't out to get anyone, or kill of people, or control minds. The main reason the Kingdom of Heaven failed was because Metatron's corrupted government had made the Kingdom a faint shadow of its former glory. The Clouded Mountain had been his lair and he had kept the real God imprisoned in a crystal of the hardest thing ever made. He had made sure man would fall, but Will and Lyra, harnessed the knife's energy and made it possible for God to return and continue to reign on high.

Lyra passed into the chapel just to pray for a while. She met Dame Hannah who was just finishing her morning prayers and was tidying up the pews. Lyra soundlessly made for the front pews and knelt down. The bell would soon sound for morning mass. She prayed quickly and hurried out, just to find Dame Hannah waiting for her on the steps.

"Oh hi Lyra dear! Would you like to grab some breakfast while I pick up some fascinating new scrolls I found in the library? I'll see you in my study before the clock sounds 8 times so we can have time to pour over them before the classes start at 10?"

"Oh yes please, I'll go look for the trolley then."

Lyra felt a strong feeling of deja vu as she deprived yet another master of her breakfast, after stealing yet another Master's breakfast, though this time, it was a thick slice of chocolate swirl cake. She wolfed it down while she hid behind some bookshelves in the library to pick up some reading materials for her own reference before running to Dame Hannah's room to meet her. Sure enough, her teacher was already waiting for her, with eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Look! Lyra, these scrolls shed new light on daemons!"

Dame Hannah's own daemon, a blue-silver peacock, was a symbol of her pride and dignity as well as her relatively cool and calm nature. He was Saelam, a remembrance of the witches who died in the Salem trials. Dame Hannah had strongly opposed this abuse as she thought it to be intolerant of others' race, ethics and religion. Lyra fully agreed on that point. Even though they were both convert Christians, they were also wary of others whose religions differed, like the witches.

"Wow! Wait, what is this shadowy thing?"

"Oh those are the Specters, the things you said you encountered on your journey."

"Wait, then they have been around for ages before the Knife!"

"Oh yes, what did you think they did the Salem witches to keep them from escaping from their deaths? They set the Specters on them before they were burnt at stake. By the time the flames got to them, they were already dead."

"That means that the Specters were alive before the Knife, and were not caused by the Knife at all!"

Lyra's eyes shone with hope.

"Well, my dear, if we could ask the aleithiometer what it is, I think we could get it, but the meanings would be ever so hard to read."

"If we can do it, and we must do it, then we _have _to right?"

"Well my dear, I think we can, but it will require the longest and toughest strain on you as a woman."

"Anything to see..."

She had never told Dame Hannah about Will. Neither had she told her friends the real reason why she had never been interested in boys. She finished lamely,

"another world again."

"Why of course Lyra! Everyone would want to."

So they took out the aleithiometer from its velvet covering and set the question, "Does the Knife create Specters?" with the baby for birth and creation, the serpent for the Specters as they were evil, and the sword for the Knife.

The needle shuddered and moved from the ant to the anchor to the chameleon to the bread and then back again and again. The meaning was more to Lyra's hope than to whether the Knife did or did not create the Specters. "It won't only if you gain what you want through hard work, hope, patience and sacrifice." It seemed to be telling her that to meet Will again, her sole intention, yet not to release the Specters, they must have a true and righteous reason behind meeting each other again. Wait, but how did the aleithiometer know that the only reason that Lyra asked the question was because of Will? These past few days, the aleithiometer was like a living being instead of the cold lump of gold it looked like. Well, Lyra knew that it was probably because the aleithiometer was powered on Dust, on a consciousness, so it had feelings and felt others' feelings too.

"Dong...Dong..."

The bells ringed ten o'clock, shocking Dame Hannah out of her seat.

"Lyra dearie, you have to go, I need to prepare for lessons."

"Yes, I'll go now."

Lyra walked straight out of the room and was halfway down the stairs when...

"Ahhhh!! Lyr-"

Lyra recognised the strangled yell and ran back up the stairs. Just to see Dame Hannah, sitting on her chair with a blank, "happy" look on her face.

"Hannah? Hannah?"

Lyra looked at Saelem. Yet the peacock that looked back at her was nothing like the bright-eyed daemon that she had grown to admire. It was less vibrant, the blue more like a stormy sky then the start-of-summer shade. And the silver more like a gray cobblestone. It wasn't Saelem, it was a mere duplicate and a bad one at that.

"NOOOOOOO!!"

Lyra threw back her head and wailed to the nothingness. Dame Hannah was now like the frumpy old lady she had been before Lyra had gone on her journey. Lyra had grown to love her and now that she was gone, she felt the same heart-wrenching pain that she felt when Mrs. Coulter had thrown herself into the abyss. Pantalaimon knew, it was time to tell her.

"Lyra? I have something to tell you..."

A/N:haha my dear readers! i have given you ANOTHER cliffie!! so you better review, or i won't post the next one!!

MUAHAHAHA!!

Moiranne Rose


	7. Slight Hope Kindles

"What?!"

"What?!"

Two separate entities uttered precisely the same word at precisely the same time.

Then all hell broke loose.

For the two daemons, it was like a cyclone, a hurricane and a tsunami crashed into one terrifying whirlwind of emotions. There were accusations on the daemons keeping things from their humans, shrieks that they had wasted the best years of their lives pining when all they needed to do, was sit and visualise, and to top it off, threatened to bury their daemons under seven feet of snow before dawn, if they hadn't been part of their human bodies.

Maybe it was just the shock, they tried to console themselves that their humans would calm down soon enough. Well, most likely at least.

Will and Lyra were experiencing a serious emotional roller coaster. They were officially going to have a nervous breakdown. But they couldn't. Their age had made them unable to completely lose it. They sat down and massaged their temples. This was too much to handle.

"That means, I could have seen Will? As in, REALLY met him? Pan, Pan, why didn't you tell me? WHY?!"

"You knew that if I told you, you'd never have done your work for the Republic of Heaven..."

"Pan! At least, I would have not spent 20 years pining away for a certain dark-haired boy, who's probably gotten a wife already."

"Lyra, you know damn well that you would have just gone to Will's world. It would be terrible. You would never have done anything for the Republic!"

"Pan..." Lyra had to admit, it was true. What she wouldn't have done just to see Will again...

changescenechangescenechangescene

"Kir! I thought we were friends! Pals! How could you not tell me about you and Pan?! Oh screw you!"

"Don't screw me, screw yourself! You know you wouldn't have worked for where you are, you wouldn't have helped to educate people on the Republic of Heaven, you know damn well you would."

"Kirjava! You...you...fine."

"Hah!"

"Well, to get down to business, do we meet or not?"

"Well, we promised Xaphania we would tell you once the need arose. But, it feels somewhat, _wrong_, and I don't know whether we should or not..."

"Kir, just tell me about the umm...'things' that did this."

"Well, I can't say I know much on what it is but I know what they do. It seems like they use the tearing method to pull and pull until daemons snap their cord with their humans. I think the may be one of those crazed, loony scientists which escaed in Bolvangar..."

They were very much in tune with the whole story behind Lyra, so they were quite convinced it was the work of one of the cruel, inhumane doctors who had mercilessly guillotined the daemons off from their owners, had held them, had _touched_ them. The thought made them shudder. To touch another's daemon, to feel another's _soul_, that was scarier than Will had ever dreamed.

"What did you discuss with Pan?"

"Well, we talked about what these new species were, and what they did, and that they existed in both our worlds."

"Wait, wait, a new SPECIES?!"

"Oh yes, what did you think? They are invisible and undetectable, but deadly to the soul.

"What have we found in the old mythology books?"

"Something called mythically, the Ladro, which is derived from the Italian word, which means theif. They were old myths which supposedly arose from time to time to steal souls away from their owners."

"Matches description. We need a motive, so we can determine if they're the murderers."

"Wow, you sound like the CSI:Miami! Cool it, man!"

changescenechangescenechangescene

"Pan!"

"Yeah, what? Cool it yet?"

"Yeah yeah, well, what have we found out?"

"The things we are after are really dangerous: they steal daemons, by pulling and pulling until..."

"Oh yuck...It hurts, we should know."

"Quite right."

"We need help to find out how we're going to do."

"Where are we gonna get that?"

"Umm...Aleithiometer!"

She set the question up and watched the needle go round and round. "An...angel? Will help us? Who would..."

"I would."

"What?!" the two turned around, faces twin expressions of shock.

Xaphania stood before them, resplendent in her finery. Her gleaming body made the beautiful pure snow look tainted and dirty. Her golden arched features made her look strong, resilient, she was so much like the Xaphania they knew.

"Oh my..." Lyra stuttered out.

"We have work to do...Stop opening and closing your mouth like a fish Pantalaimon."

Pan was shocked out of his daze and pouted while Xaphania started to brief Lyra on keeping correspondence with certain brown-haired individuals.

And their multi-coloured feline souls, of course.

A/N: haha dear readers! cliffie with a dash of humour

well till next time

Moiranne Rose


	8. Old Friends and Lovers Unite

* * *

Lyra was blown over by the impact of so many discoeries made in a span of less than an hour. One hour ago, she had been brooding over the fact that she would never see Will again, and that she couldn't find Pan. Now she was with Pantalaimon, a doll of a Dame Hannah, and a brilliantly shining Xaphania who was currently trying to get her attention.

"Lyra?"

"Ahh, yes, ahem, Yes Xaphania?"

"I need to tell you, Lyra, do you know why I prevented your daemon from telling you?"

"Umm, I guess not..."

"I knew that you, deprived of the passionate and true love you shared with Will, would jump for the opportunity to be with him again. Like your daemon said, you would have never built the Republic of Heaven if you had wilted away before you had hit 25. The purpose of letting you daemon know was in case anything happened to the two worlds you live in. Only the two of you and your daemons know about both these worlds and possibly countless of other worlds too. I needed some correspondence between the worlds so that should the need arise, I wouldn't have to pull another two people out of their lives and into another adventure. Now that there is trouble at hand, I will have to pull you out again. But this time, into a different place, a different dimension, some might say."

"Then...then...is there a new threat or something? Don't tell me the abyss opened again..."

"No no child, thank God for that. It is a different threat, which is not as dangerous to the earth, but equally crucial."

"Then, shall we continue?" Lyra tried to hide the fact that she was wholly intimidated by the angel herself. She had the most condescending gaze, that made Lyra want to creep underneath the nearest rock or boulder. She felt more like the barely teenage girl she had been the last time she had met Xaphania than her thirty-three year old self she had become.

"Yes. Hold my hand, child."

Lyra felt this whirlpool sensation. It sucked her into this miasma of colour and brightness. In seconds, she felt like she had been pulled through an ocean of emotions, one moment, it was hot, boiling, then in the next chilling to the bone. Then her feet were grounded again. She saw hazy images of fast moving metallic surfaces with sunshine glancing off. What was this place? She heard a faint ruckus of honking. Cars. Will's world. Yet everything was like she was looking at them through a wall of water. Separated somehow.

She looked to her companion. The angel was standing tall and austere, floating just above the ground with golden wings beating gently. Xaphania's young-old face looked upon the city like she was seeing an old friend. Evidently, she had had experiences here too. She held a squirming restless Pantalaimon in her gentle but firm grip. He twisted just out of it to marvel at the familiarity of this new world. After all, he'd seen it through Kirjava's eyes.

Xaphania beckoned with one long golden finger, holding out Pantalaimon in the process. Her eyes filled with such a simple happiness that it seemed to clash with her complex mind. Yet, Lyra wordlessly followed. They moved past bungalows, glowing yellows and whites. Lyra ran her hand over a certain railing with a few rusted bars missing. She even danced down the avenue lined with hornbeams. She closed her eyes remembering her thirteen-year-old self, the lightness of youth, without cares or worries, unlike the burdens she bore in her later years. She was Will's Lyra again, full of daring and pride, ready for all danger and adventure.

"Xaphania..." Lyra looked back to her. She wanted to thank the angel, for bringing her back, to where she knew Will to be. Oh Will, how would he look? What would he say? Her mind whirled with possibilities.

Then. Then, she saw a dark haired man walk up to a house. A small modest one. With a small porch and a bench under a tree, not unlike the place she sat when she thought of Will. Will. That man was Will. She was so shocked that she stood still. Completely still.

Then she was aware of the fact that she was a golden shimmer, invisible to normal eyes. But whirling with Dust. No one but...but Doctor Malone could see her now.

The angel glided up beside her. "Do not despair, child, he will recognise you. But for now, you must remain in this state, so I can bring you to your next destination without hassle. Now, go to him. I will wait for you outside."

"Xa-" She could merely nod mutely her thanks as she turned and went to Will's house. She knocked, glad that her fist was solid enough to knock the door and make a sound. An older lady, who looked strikingly like Will opened the door. Of course, she could not see Lyra, but Lyra walked in past her stooped old body. The lady looked past as she walked through, somehow feeling her presence, but seeing nothing, she closed the door, muttering about 'pesky little kids' and 'ought to be spanked'. Lyra chuckled, she herself was familiar to the sensation of a 'spanking'.

She saw Will. Which abruptly stopped her laughter. He was older, but nonetheless, her Will. Broad-jawed, powerful stance of a fighter, he stood by the refridgerator, scratching his dark, messy hair as he searched inside for something to eat. Was he stalking his prey of bread or something? She went right up to him. Her hand impulsively reached out, and touched his face.

_Touched his face. _He turned immediately. Sensing the presence of some conceal creature. Then he turned slightly. He knew he could see something. But it was so faint, almost not there. Then, by some sudden stroke of genius, took out Mary's spyglass, which had been placed reverently on the display cabinet in the hall. Then through it he saw...

Lyra.

The two stared at each other. Both had imagined the scene so many times that now that it was upon them, they were at a lost as to what to do.

The spyglass fell from his fingers and was soon forgotten as the two lovers rushed forward, a whirlwind of Dust enveloping a solid human, yet nothing mattered. It was like there was no other care except for the one thing that passed through both their minds.

"We're back, and we're staying."

A/N: wow, this chapter took a while. I had projects to do for school so I couldn't find time. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. Hopefully the next chapter will be out soon. But just keep your fingers crossed that my teachers don't spring another surprise project on me.

Lotsa Love,

Moiranne Rose


	9. Leaving Behind Family to Embark

Heyy,

Heyy,

Well, this is the next chapter guys, and hope you like it. Oh yah, I'm looking for a beta at the moment so I was wondering, if anyone wants to help beta the story (plus get a sneak preview of what is to come ) review and tell me that you want to be my beta! First come First serve! Okay? Fantastic!

Lotsa Love

Moiranne Rose

Will's mother was shocked, indescribably shocked. She didn't know how to react to her sullen, brooding child having such a simple expression of pure joy. Nor could she think why in the world he would be hugging something she couldn't even see. She had spent the last 20 years worrying over her son's ornery self, and even when he wasn't awake and moping around, she would lie on the king-sized bed, of which one side would never be filled, and cry at the way her family had crumbled ever since she had supposedly 'gone mad'.

When Will had told her that her husband would never return, in her mind, she had already considered him long gone. But this dragging mist of pain had followed her and Will through the years as they picked up the pieces of their 'normal' lives.

It had had laughter too, their days as a family of two had had so many happy snippets, like when on Mother's Day, he'd gotten up at the crack of dawn to make biscuits, only to have the flour bag, which hung precariously at the side of the cabinet, unceremoniously dunk half its contents onto his head. It had been funny, while it lasted. But he had always gone back to his gloomy, depressed self, despite her concern for him. But for now, she was glad, albeit shocked, to see him smile so genuinely again. Even when he was hugging onto a being she could not see.

Then she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw a being shrouded in gold, shining brightly like the sun on the hottest summer day. Her radiance made out an outline of the being with which her son was so enthralled to meet. A lady, by the looks of it, about his age too. Was this the...,she groped for the name in her memory, she had heard him call out this name once or twice in his dreams, ah yes, Lyra that he seemed to so sorely miss? She had not much time to think of such thoughts, since she had most of her attention given to the angel who was casting a fiery gaze around her.

Xaphania did something she had never expected she would do, she inclined her head respectfully. Elaine Parry was shocked, to say the least, but remembered her manners and bowed back. Xaphania walked, no correction, she _glided_ over to the embracing lovers, and tapped on Will's shoulder. He broke away, still holding onto Lyra shamelessly. He smiled, like he was seeing someone he remembered from a long time ago. The angel turned back and placed her hand against Elaine's head, conveying a stream of comprehension and understanding through her. Then she placed her palms on Will and Lyra's heads, and pulled them into a void all over again.

Leaving Elaine Parry smiling slightly with comprehension, and turning to close the fridge door.

Will's mind was spinning with the things that had happened over the last few minutes. All the things he could be thankful for. Lyra, that would take all his thanks, his smile and laughter had returned. Even when he promised Lyra he wouldn't make comparisons, or think about the time they had lost building the Kingdom of Heaven, he couldn't forget. In his place, he knew that no one could. Yet to have her again, he felt that beautiful arterial burst of love that reminded him of all the times he thought of this. He felt the rush of grief that had filled him when he pressed that final tear of Lyra's to his cheek. Every thought, every feeling was spread out over the tapestry of his life. He could feel them rush through him, making him feel all that he had felt when he was younger, all the success, all the failure, rushing through his veins once again. He was both exhilarated and scared of the sensations.

Then all of a sudden, everything stood still.

Looking around, he was in awe. The place they had come into was not unlike Cittagazze, the City of Magpies, but it was more, vibrant, than Cittagazze had ever been. It was glowing with golden shimmers shrouding all the high towers and roads, though it gave the impression that one was only viewing the world through a glass pane. He looked to Xaphania, in the same period where Lyra did too, their hands linked almost childishly.

"Welcome, children and daemons, to the Transit World."

The aforementioned Transit World was a bustling city of molten gold with millions of people going through it. It had gleaming windows looking out into a million different worlds, with rain, sunshine, hail, cars, everything.

They could only gasp in awe, and of course turn to the all-knowing angel for answers.

A/N: Thanks dear readers, for sticking by me. I had to finish 2 stupid projects for my evil teachers these past few weeks so this has taken a while coming. I just used this to start ou into the whole "Transit World" thing. And I swear, the next one will be out soon. PROMISE!

Lotsa Love,

Moiranne Rose


	10. The Battle Lines and Noble Dreams Form

So Near Yet So Far

**Heyy my lovely readers,**

**For this chapter, my thanks goes out to all who reviewed (thank you so much for the compliments which keep me writing) and most of all to ShadowNx for helping me with it. She helped me proof-read which helped me to rethink and write it better in the end.**

**Lotsa Love,**

**Moiranne Rose**

Xaphania, thankfully, began explanation.

"Before the Knife, before the openings, or windows like you love to call them, there was and still is a way through the worlds everyone knew, but no one could place. It is the power of dreams. Dreams bring you everywhere, no? To everywhere, anywhere. And sometimes, even to the past or the future. This travel is truer than that of the Knife, and it is known and accessible to anyone, if they knew where to look. This go-between place is called the Transit World. Similar to King's Cross or Oxford Locomotive in either one of your worlds, except this place accepts anyone's entrance or departure and the only toll is that of sleep."

Lyra regained her powers of speech faster than Will, Kirjava or even Pan (which is saying a lot).

"Would that mean that anyone can travel through the worlds? Who created this place? And after this place, who would create the Knife?"

Xaphania's smile at their confusion was as indecipherable as a slab of granite.

"I cannot say if this place was ever built or created. I think it was born out of a human's thoughts. Maybe when humans first had a conscious mind to dream, this was when it came to be. It could be what you call a "Figment of Imagination" yet it is because it is the _imagination_ of millions, billions of people, this is a reality. Yet no human is aware of its existence. So the Guild created the Knife from here-" she gestured to a hole of about a metre in diameter near their feet, opening into a dark nothingness. "Dust has been leaking out ever since it was taken, not just because it was used."

Will and Lyra shared a glance of shock.

"Then, then-" Will stuttered, much to Kirjava and Pan's amusement, "Then what is the link to the Ladro? Are they part of this?"

Xaphania's eyes burned in pinpoints of hatred.

"Ladro. That's what Metatron calls them. They are the foes of this place, a close _relative _should I say, to the Specters, except they are even worse. They _tear _the daemons away. Daemons aren't just yours you know, they are the children of this place, they join you to this world, they allow for this travel. Which is why Kirjava and Pantalaimon could converse in the ancient language of daemons while you two cannot. This ability for daemons to speak with their minds and projecting feelings is closely linked to this Transit World, where they are born and where they are returned when they die. The replenishing of life is vital and in turn helps to patch up the hole made by every incision. All have been covered except for the source of it all."

Will and Lyra were suitably shocked, as was their expression for the day. Their thirty-three year old minds were whirring faster than their thirteen year old ones could, but yet, they knew their younger selves had been more accepting than they had ever come to be now. Whatever they had gone through together, had shaped whatever they were today. Maybe it was their destiny to forever be traveling around the worlds, saving the planet. Maybe some people were just born like that, like it was Fate that held the dice to their future. Lyra almost laughed, since she was supposed to have destroyed destiny so long ago.

"Then, what do the Ladro do?" Pantalaimon shook slightly with fear, as did Kirjava.

Xaphania frowned slightly.

"The Ladro steal the daemons from their owners. They prevent the daemons from returning, pulling them into a void. Some say the void is the Abyss, some say it is Hell, but I do not know for certain. All I know is that they can never be back with their owners, and they will never become one with the earth, stars and waters again. In doing this, they make it impossible for the daemons released into the world to return and replenish the stream of life in this world that gives everyone their soul."

She gestured to a giant fountain, close to twenty metres in height, from which a beautiful stream of so many colours and shapes were bursting forth. As each beautiful crystal drop fell, a daemon came into existence, full form and to the finest detail. Lyra and Will stared in awe, as did their own daemons, who were also waving at their compatriots, leaving for different worlds to accompany another person through life. Some flew to the sides of babies, appearing as the baby opened its eyes for the first time. Some were absorbed into the chest of other babies, as an inner soul. The creation was perfection, even Xaphania smiled in wonderment.

Then Lyra remembered the task at hand.

"But then, would that mean that there is another adventure we will go on. To save this world? But what's the use in that? Aren't the daemons fine?"

Xaphania laughed at their foolishness.

"The fountain is waning. What it gives must be returned, or it will run out of life to create." They turned to her gesturing hand, to see a slight white line about five metres above the level of the life water. "The water used to be up to there." She sighed. "Why is that important? Look around you. The people walking around, are they not human? Look at the dogs that run past chasing cats, are they an illusion? They are real. As real as the flesh on your arm, as real as the first dew on morning leaves, as real as evil is evil and good is good and human is human. Look at the people, can you count them? There are billions of people, who need this world. Without daemons, who will have consciousness? This is a way to control us, and this may be the best plan since the world began. We need you to fight it. Not for yourselves, not for the people, but so you can hold your head up high and know that you didn't shirk duty when it was thrust onto you, even if it means your life or your love is gone. That is the use, and that is what the world needs."

They were deeply moved at her speech, but more of the conviction within her voice, her belief in them. Will and Lyra's hearts burned with a kind of pride that had never been felt by either before. It was a nice feeling no doubt, but it carried with it the burden of duty and the weight of the worlds' fates. They smiled at each other, relishing eyes that burned with passion and a love that had matured past the time they had been away from each other. In that instance, in that look, they told themselves and made a pledge to the billions of unknowing beings.

"_We're ready, we're ready to make a difference."_

But just as they were thinking this, Xaphania broke them out of their reverie with a statement that made their spirits sink again.

"Metatron is back."

**Heyy,**

**Ohh! CLIFFHANGER! (:**

**Thanks for reading this, it's been a blast writing this so far and I'm loving it. Thanks for the reviews and please tell me how to improve!**

**Moiranne Rose**


	11. As New Evil Brews With Old Foes

So Near Yet So Far

Metatron fell.

And fell.

And fell.

He could feel the particles of his being break apart, slowly but surely, he felt his form become fuzzy and warped, his thinking fading out slightly. He could feel his senses dull. Was this the end for him? As an angel, the all-powerful Regent, he hated to admit defeat. Especially to the humiliating death in the Abyss. No. He didn't deserve to die like this, slowly, painfully losing consciousness, aging and aging, but helpless to prevent the endless falling. It just went down, and down, and down. His wings couldn't beat, the blackness weighed down every feather like condensation. For once in his life, Metatron had to admit defeat. This would be the first battle he knew he couldn't win.

He knew now what desperation was. What helplessness was. That clawing feeling mixed with fear and slightly irony that pulled at the black coal depths of his scheming heart, or what was left of it. He screamed, but was immediately choked by suffocating blackness, forever blackness, that swirled around him like a fog that just wouldn't let up. He scrabbled for purchase on would-be walls that he thought would be near to him. But they weren't there. His hands came back with nothing, just leaving him to fall even further into his doomed half-living state. He heard his mind go into hysteria as he thought one final, hopeless thought.

"Anyone, the Devil even, save me! I'll give you anything. _ANYTHING! _Just not this! Not this kind of death!"

Suddenly he felt a whoosh as he was immediately sucked into a vortex, which led him to…

"A coward's thoughts I'd say."

Metatron's eyes blinked as he tried to accustom himself to the firelight. He had ended up in a chamber, a black one filled with leering, gleaming cat eyes, a myriad of cackling voices, all both frightened and expectant of their visitor. Their attention was mostly on him, but they bowed respectfully as a figure, shrouded in a black cape of flowing ebony, rose from his spiked throne above the burning inferno of a bonfire.

"Lucifer…" Metatron was glad to have his voice back, but it was scratchy, hoarse and wounded.

"My, my, you remember my name. I presume Our 'Almighty'" here his voice filled with scorn and sarcasm, "finally met his match?"

Metatron managed a laugh. "I guess I did."

The Devil relished in his superiority, uncaring of his sneering volunteers. His formidable form inspired a kind of fear that would never be forgotten. It didn't matter where you looked, whether it was his black, powerful wings, his lean and muscled arms, his veined hands and feet, his proud face, or his eyes. The eyes that burned with a light not unlike the one from the fire, but it was a fire of darkness, of evil black. Their flames penetrated through Metatron, unable to stop himself, he shivered.

"Frightened are we?" Lucifer said tauntingly. "Not so powerful now, are you? Now it's your turn to beg me. Just as I begged you, so long ago, not to throw me out of Heaven. You said it was your duty, to our Master, the true Almighty. But it wasn't. It was just you wanting me out. I left in disgrace, in my heart, a grudge kindled. I would wait for a day like today, where it would be your turn to beg from me, forsaking all your dignity, all your pride."

Metatron knew he was at the end of the line. Lucifer would do his worst with him. He would play his trump card now. Lucifer would never give up an opportunity to fulfill his one dream.

Metatron smiled slightly, his lips turning upwards into a smirk. "What if I told you, I had a plan, to help you rule the world?"

Lucifer spun round immediately, hiding his surprise well behind the mask of shadows. He could hardly keep it out of his voice. "What are you thinking of, Enoch?"

Metatron flinched at the usage of his earthly name, having long discarded it for his own, more glorifying title he bore. But he still composed himself to speak. "I was thinking, of a deal, a truce should I say? Because I had a plan to dominate the worlds until things got carried away, you know what I mean. Humans always _complicate_ things, don't they? No matter where they are, where they are from. All that _knowledge _they think they have, they try to be so different. So the deal is my freedom from the Abyss, and your rule over the worlds. What do you say?"

Lucifer's eyes gleamed golden for a second. Metatron could see his mind whirring to find loopholes in the argument. He allowed Lucifer into his mind, to probe his thoughts and motives, finding nothing in them that did not mirror his own. Lucifer knew enough of the world to know that no one was truly evil or good. They were a mixture of the two, sometimes maybe circumstances proved one to be less evil and one to be more. Metatron's mind was like his, working only for himself. But it had the same goal as him, to rule the worlds. All of them.

"My, my, brother, you aren't very different from me, are you? As He, Our Most High-" here the Devil's voice was dripping with cruel sadistic taunts, "-said, we are brothers in our _duties, _in our _calling. _We are the same Metatron. We are cowards, we are back-stabbers, we are evil, vicious, brutal, and corrupt, all for our own purposes, our own good. And," at this, Lucifer's voice turned low and breathy, lowering to a loud whisper. "We are proud of it."

Metatron's eyes widened slightly and he felt suddenly scared that Lucifer would just order him to be thrown back into the Abyss again. His voice cracked with fear. "What of the deal?"

Lucifer's fiery gaze settled back onto him. He smiled triumphantly at his enemy-ally's broken self. His voice curled around his words.

"Consider it done."


	12. We Ready Ourselves For Battle

So Near Yet So Far

Heyy,

So this is the next, long awaited chapter of this fic. Be happy dear readers, that I have found a fantastic beta in the form of ShadowNx. He helped SO much in the making of this, that without him, everything would be as mixed as my table is now (it looks like Hurricane Katrina just went through it). Thank him. And thank God, that for the millionth time, he's watched over me so I didn't get like banged down by a car today (nearly did) or cracked my kneecap (almost did).

Enjoy dear readers, and REVIEW!

Moiranne Rose

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 12: We Ready Ourselves For Battle**

Lyra and Will were obviously, initially, scared of the threat Metatron posed to the worlds. According to Xaphania, he would be working with the Devil, the Fallen Angel Lucifer. Will impulsively grabbed for Lyra's hand, and even in her stoic thirty-three year old, don't-mess-with-me self, she couldn't help but blush when he did so. But she smiled at him too, grateful for physical contact between her lover and her.

"Lyra…" Will's overprotective personality made him concerned for Lyra, who was currently turning slightly green with nausea. She flashed him a small grin, characteristic of herself, which made him slightly awed that he had a second chance at being with her again. It had been so long without her that he had crafted an image of her, which had distorted some of her features. Her eyes weren't as big as he had thought them to be, but then again, they looked more real on Lyra's face than in his mind's eye. He just thanked his lucky stars that he could have and hold her again.

Now that the explanations were over, and Pan and Kirjava had left with Xaphania abruptly soon after the angel's speech, all Lyra wanted was to look over her dear Will. To memorize him all over again, store all the snapshots of him inside her heart to keep. His hair had grown to be almost unruly but still had a characteristic waviness in its brown locks. It smelled faintly of something she could only describe as _subtle_, one of the words she had often linked to Will. His arms were lean but slightly muscled after countless fights. His eyes still were, as ever, that beautiful shade of near-obsidian, flashing with fiery passion so like the Will of his younger days. Even his jaw was still as jutting and smooth as it was when he was 13.

Lyra too was different. Years of work had hardened some of her features and softened some too. Her eyes were no longer pinpoints of hatred, but more demure, gentler ones. But her face, once filled with cheeks of baby fat, was now narrowed with her age, and her chin was more pointed than in her younger days. Yet the blue was still there. The blue he had been dreaming off for the past 20 years.

Well, at this point, I can't say what they did exactly, since I'm for once, giving them a bit of space to do what they want. I'm not saying that they were uninteresting or that they were doing inappropriate things. But I'm trying to give them privacy as they "catch up" on all the time that they've missed out on. However, certain other parties do not have the courtesy I have, sadly. But then again, their matter is more pressing than mine.

Somewhere in between their conversations-and-then-some, Will suddenly jolted violently, nausea sending him reeling. He closed his eyes against it and immediately saw a dark form raise a flaming club the size of a tree. He heard a voice cry out as the club fell, burning pitch pine, which was a piercing smell to his nostrils, accompanied by the smell of death.

Lyra reached towards him to offer comfort, then she was assailed by the visions too. It was like the distant memory of Bolvangar, and the man who had held Pantalaimon. The dread weighed her heart down, but it pumped harder than ever, fearful and out of breath. She glimpsed the feline shape of Kirjava narrowly missing the blow of a gargantuan mythical monster. Though it seemed less like a myth and more like a reality. She cried out her daemon's name and Kirjava's too in despair.

Then the darkness and gloom disappeared, replaced by the showering Fountain and its iridescent colours just below the surface. They looked at each other, somehow not bothered by the tears that had fallen with their daemons' pain. They wrung their hands in anxiety, hardly daring to move, forgetting their previous activities, with eyes reverted to the portal they had disappeared through with Xaphania, anxious and restless, just hours before. Were they safe? The two lovers' hands found their way back to each other as they waited, united in fear and love for their soulmates.

What seemed like eons later, two infamous red-gold and shiny dusk-coloured bodies walk in. Lyra and Will immediately broke apart. Their faces lit with joy and sadness at the same time. And then horror mixed with shock.

First of all the shocks, it was the disheveled, limping, wounded daemon forms. Pantalaimon bled from the ear, though his claws bore the marks of being used. Kirjava limped, held up by Pan's nimble and lithe body, her front right foot looked like it was sprained. Or twisted. Or broken. Well, it was pretty bad whichever it was.

It seemed that in all the time they had been, getting to know each other again, in those long minutes, which had seemed so short, everything had happened. Their own daemons in battle, without them, and with them putting up the fight against Lucifer's armies, which had to be a hard reality to fall back into. The first blow had been at a place they had forgotten as they were learning about the Transit World. The Republic of Heaven, the place Metatron had once ruled as "Almighty".

Looking behind them, they saw a field with hundreds of wisps of gold making their way above, past the clouds. All the angels who had sacrificed to protect, as around them, there were demons, black as they were gold. Minotaurs, hags, trolls, all of them, in pools of black blood and the streaming gold cloud of angels flowing up to the heavens. It was so much more than that split second of looking through their daemons' eyes could have encapsulated. But what their daemons had encountered, what they could see behind the small entourage headed for them, didn't offset the brilliance of the object and the being they were bringing with them.

Lyra's first reaction was, "No…"

Will's was, "Knife. Again. Openings. Specters. No."

But most of all, it was for the both of them, "Angels."

Two tall figures, unclothed, as they all were, wings carefully closed as they walked towards the two humans gracefully and silently. In one's hands was a gleaming knife, beautiful, shining and infinitely powerful. Will's hand, the one with three fingers, twinged as if in pain just by the proximity to a Knife like the one that had severed them. But this Knife did not have the exquisite markings like the ones on the original Subtle Knife. But the other held something they never would have wanted to see.

A golden figure, bleeding out of her temple, gasping and form fuzzied, blurred, then clearer, then hazy all over again. Her weapon still held limply in the hand that was losing strength ever so quickly. Her palms were near see-through, to see the darkened blade of a threatening blade, though not nearly as sharp as the knife held in the other angel's hands though.

One word, could have summed up everything, a name, the name of one angel, old as she was young, fighter, protector, fatally hit by a being known to the world as the "Almighty", as she had protected the gates of her homeland, the Republic of Heaven. A name that had been repeated over the centuries, attributed to success, service, loyalty. That one word, which spilled from both the lovers' lips. The name which was,

"Xaphania."

**A/N: Liked it? Didn't? Review, get your virtual cookie and tell me about it! **


	13. We Count Our Fallen and Grieve

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 13: We Count Our Fallen and Grieve**

* * *

The limp body was settled onto the side of the magnificent fountain, the marble edges cool as the fingers rapidly losing life. The angel's form shook with each tiring breath, her young-old face contorted with pain but struggling for words. Lyra and Will had grief etched in their features as they came close to hear her last words. Her heaving chest blurred into a haze of gold before redefining itself. But after a couple of minutes, she had composed herself well enough to speak,

"Children, daemons, the time has come for the angels to pass on their duty. We have ruled for a long time, admittedly, too long. We have fallen, only to have a new race take our place. Now, it is not time to stop us from leaving, as many of us have done, for it has been foretold that the angels will fall against those who have rebelled, and the Republic of Heaven will fall to the hands of those young, but ready. To the Mother of the World, and the Bearer of the Ultimate Judgment and Weapon-" a rattling cough broke her off. "To you." She finished, gasping for breath against Death's imminent destruction.

"Xaphania," Lyra sobbed, her gender made her prone to weeping, "we aren't...aren't _ready_ for this!"

Will was quick to add, "Hold on, we can't have you leave us. Not now! It's not fair!"

Xaphania's features fuzzed again, and then they caught almost the faintest smile the angel had given, as she dissipated into the air, her voice ghostly as it intoned her final words.

"You don't have to be ready, you have to be strong and do the best you can in what time you have. You are not alone."

The swirling plume of gold seemed to float in the air, before being sucked into the vortex that had been the once invincible army of the angels. Of which, only two remained, the silent two angels who had brought Xaphania. And the Knife. Or the knife, Will wasn't so sure if the capitalization was appropriate.

The two angels were sombre enough, for angels, but they betrayed no outward grief, as angels did. Will was quick in his advance towards the golden being bearing the Weapon, which seemed to shine a white gold as it reflected the brilliance of the fountain that was still flowing streams of daemon-water. The angel made no move to stop him, simply holding it up for him to see.

"Ouch!" Will's over-eagerness caused him a cut on his palm. "You did that on purpose!" he accused rather comically, though Lyra's concern kept her from giggling at his foolishness. There was a strange feeling of dИjЮ-vu as she rushed to him, one hand already tearing the hem of her dress as a makeshift bandage and clumsily tying it over his bleeding palm.

The angels gazed at them in an austere manner, preferring to look upon them in an unfathomable way, a rather irritating way at that. Then the one that held the sharp, obsidian knife passed it to the other, delicately and with infinite care, and began to speak.

Her (as it turned out, she was female, her piercing gaze made it difficult to look anywhere but on her face) voice was almost like a silver bell, or rather the tinkling of a spoon on a glass. It was as pure and delicious to the ears as water is upon a thirsty tongue. But her face did not seem as old as Xaphania's, in fact, she looked much younger than any of the angels they had seen.

"The Knife's power is shown through experience. Now you know what it can do, with just that touch, you will understand the gravity it holds with the universe. It is not called Zephyron for nothing."

"Who...who are you? And what is this Zephyron thing? Some Knife reincarnate?" asked Lyra, as she frantically tried to staunch the overflowing blood that poured from the gaping wound.

The angel, presumably the male counterpart of the former angel, moved forward to assist. Lyra turned and stepped into his path. "No! You'll make it worse!"

The female angel laughed a sound that sounded like the light splash of a spring on rocks, it was hard to describe, but it made even Will forget his hand's wound and look up. "Let Jeshu help him. He is gifted in the art of healing, far better than your bandage."

Lyra blushed in her stupidity, but covered it by saying, almost too loudly, "Who are you?"

As the tall angel bent over Will, he laid his palm over Will's and his hand glowed with unearthly power. Will gave a slight cry before removing his hand, only to see that the wound had healed so flawlessly that there was just a scar left in place of a gaping wound. He was so surprised and grateful that he tried to speak, then started to thank him, then couldn't think of what he wanted to say, and so ended up silent. The taciturn angel nodded, eyes betraying a vague form of amusement, and moved to stand behind his companion again.

"I am Kariel, and he is Jeshu. Jeshu prefers not to converse in words, as he feels very tired translating the ancient language into English for you to understand. I am younger than he, and so still converse more in English than the other angels. So do not be surprised if I'm the only one talking in the entire time we are with you. And this Knife is different from the original God-Destroyer. This Knife is made for someone, it has only one sole purpose. It is written in the ancient language, on the Book of Life, if you may, that one will come with the power of wisdom and another with the power of judgment. They will be from a fallen race, but will prove themselves worthy of their title. They are you. They are what you should be. The task you were born to carry out."

"My skill with the Aleithiometer? Will's skill with the Blade? This was all building up to this? Will you help us?" Lyra inquired, half in hope and half in dread.

"Yes. We both will help you, as our commander instructed us to." Kariel answered, black eyes shining.

"Commander..." Will's voice dragged into a question.

"Xaphania. Our whole army is gone forever, save us. She hid us today, to make sure at least two angels would live to help you. We would be called cowards by our type if they knew, but they are gone."

"Why should we listen to you?" Lyra said rather insolently, but she couldn't care less.

"Because we're the only ones you can listen to. The Angels are gone, there are only the two of us left. Just you two, and us two. Against Metatron."

Just when Will and Lyra had thought that everything was beginning to make sense, when everything seemed to be going their way, something or someone had to come along to remind them just how wrong they had been.

* * *

And as their faces fell in despair, two others lit up in glee.

Lucifer was somewhat surprised that Metatron's plan had been successful. Though hesitant to follow, he was wholly satisfied with the result. As it turned out, it seemed that any and all angels were gone and the Republic, the Transit World, and the two trouble-making children (they would forever be children, they had no maturity of those that had lived more lifetimes than the Earth itself.) were completely vulnerable to any and all attacks they chose to hit them with. He would have gone all the way to throw his head back and laugh, but he would not degrade himself to a common "bad guy".

He was not a "bad guy". He was merely a fallen angel, denied of his rights, trying his best to get them back. No one was really all bad or all good, they were all mixes of the two and mostly, they only did things for their own good. This was not a massacre, this was a tactical killing to weaken the forces. Thanks to Metatron, he knew how the angels would strike and so, how to cut them down in their paths. Sure, a battalion of minotaurs, trolls and hags were killed, but this was all for the greater good , was it not?

Metatron had been silent for a time now, though his face registered glee. He seemed deep in thought, smiling wryly and somewhat mysteriously. In an instant, Lucifer broke through all his mind's walls and delved into his mind. Smiling in sarcasm and sadistic joy, he emerged with newfound knowledge before Metatron realised that he had been in his head.

"So, Enoch," a wince at the name overlooked, "You actually loved before all of this? I'm not surprised at your choice though. Look at what would have happened to you if you had stayed with her? Although, I thought you had learned that love was never meant to be immortal. It was foolish of you to love. Luckily," here the thin, deadly voice dropped to a whisper, "She is no longer here to complicate things."

"How...How did you know?" Metatron's voice was so scared that it was hilarious.

"Enoch, we learned our skills from the same person. Someone we killed right after he thought us, remember?"

Metatron wisely stayed silent.

"Put them away from your mind, this is not time to be sentimental and weak. We are exacting vengeance. For everything that has made our lives less than saintly, like what we were promised."

Metatron followed the iron-hard voice and put the last thoughts of the fallen love he had had. He slipped on a new plated armor, and in doing so, a new soul too.

* * *

A/N: So. SO. Thanks to ShadowNx for editing and making it a lot better than before this. And as a disclaimer, since I haven't really done one yet, I do not own this book, the franchise, this computer, or anything except for the idea and the two angels. That's it. As much as I'd like it otherwise of course.

Moiranne Rose


	14. Picking Ourselves Up and Continuing

**Heyy,**

**Here's the next chapter readers! Thanks goes out to all of you who have been faithfully reading these musings of a teenage writer and she thanks her beta, ShadowNx and his daemon Nax.**

**Lotsa Love,**

**Moiranne Rose**

* * *

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 14: Picking Ourselves Up and Continuing**

* * *

Lyra felt helpless. Unbelievably helpless to all the things that were happening. She longed to use an excuse like "I don't deserve this!" or "I'm too young for this!" or the ultimate "That's not fair!", but now that she was older, at least older than the time she had first brought down Metatron. But that had been luck. At least, she classified it as luck.

They were so confused, everything was dying on them, and they had lost their only hope. Xaphania was the last one who had known all of what was happening, who was in the war, what they were doing. Lyra couldn't help but think that they were simply being like headless chickens, minus the high-pitched squawking.

"So, what should we do?" Will asked the most rhetoric questions. He vaguely tried to impersonate Indiana Jones on an exploration of nowhere, but none of his companions had ever heard of him, so he dropped it after a while.

"Xaphania said…" Kariel seemed to start a thought, "Never mind."

"No, no, we need every idea we can get! Tell us Kariel!" Lyra was bordering on hysterical.

"Well," Kariel sighed, a strange sound from an angel, but one none the less. "A few years ago, that's eons for you actually, Xaphania sent a troop of five angels to a distant forgotten land, a world that was given up for dead by the Creator. She wanted to know why there was still a portal from the Transit World into it, when it was supposed to have died. They never came back." She turned away, but they caught a single, shiny golden, tear fall.

"Did you lose someone?" Lyra asked, her gender making her more understanding than Will and Jeshu.

"I…I don't want to talk about it. Not yet."

"So…" Will frantically tried to save the conversation. "What's the big deal about it?"

"The big deal is that, a planet will give up its portal once there are no more beings or consciousness left on it. However, since this one has not been given up yet, there is a strong possibility that there are beings on the planet that are powerful beyond our imagination."

"Why would that be?" Lyra inquired, rather confused as to why a dead hunk of matter with various unknown species could be of any help to them.

"They are extremely adapted to their climate, which, from what I heard, was extremely cold and often has hailstorms. If we can get them to help us, we will be able to take on whatever Metatron, Lucifer, or whoever else has got for us."

For the first time, they were absolutely clear as to what she was trying to say.

Kariel smiled slightly at them, and for the first time, they actually could see what she looked like. Somehow, the mixture of the smoke rising from a factory in one of the portals and the brilliance of the marble Fountain made it easier to see her features. She was shorter than most angels were, but her arms were strong in a way that seemed both ferocious and graceful at the same time. There was brilliance about her eyes that made them different from every other angels' eyes.

Then they realized. Her eyes were blue. Light sky blue, not the ordinary obsidian.

Then they all dropped back to reality. The whole heavenly-ness of the situation was broken as Lyra realized Kariel had left out a very important part of the whole solution. How were they supposed to find this planet? She voiced out her question.

Kariel's face immediately fell from its happy, nothing's-wrong demeanor. It was serious, and somehow, her eyes flashed like Xaphania's used to (Will and Lyra were pained at the use of the past tense). It seemed like she hadn't thought of that either.

Then, the two daemons, who had been silent all this while, somehow intimidated by the angels' overpowering presence, spoke up.

"I think I have a plan." Pantalaimon had no idea what kind of things normally followed after that sentence. But, with no other hope for help, they turned to listen, as the daemons explained.

Metatron surveyed the armies of minions gathered before Lucifer's lair. They numbered further than his powerful eyes could see. But he sensed that it might not be enough. Evidently, Lucifer had been worrying too. The dark angel, black feathered wings folded sharply over his back, had been striding up and down the room for the last few minutes (though now, Metatron didn't know the difference between a minute and a lifetime).

"The armies are assembled, my lord." A scratchy voice of one of the lieutenants (a troll) had spoken up.

Lucifer whisked around in anger at being interrupted in his thoughts. They cowered in his fiery gaze as he brushed them off and went on pacing. The many generals took the hint to leave their master to his own devices.

"It is not enough. They are not enough. I need to destroy, _annihilate, _the Transit World first. If there remains a link between the worlds, they can band together. If they can be kept isolated from each other…What could destroy something so complex and well-made?" He thought half out loud.

"Why do we need to destroy them?" Metatron asked, almost to himself, allowing his question to hang in the air.

Lucifer smirked, "Enoch, if the worlds band together, it's going to take more than just my army to take it over. We have to tackle the problem at its source, and not just take out the different worlds. There are too many to do so. If we kill the world which holds them together, which gives them their souls, we'll have all the worlds in no time."

Metatron picked up the rest, though he could not fully penetrate into Lucifer's mind, he could sense his furiously working mind whirring brilliantly fast.

"Lucifer," He started warily.

He turned around abruptly again, but had the decency (or maybe the disdain) that kept him from passing him off as another stupid plan.

"We could use the Deyanira Magic." He had been thinking of this for a while now. It was an ancient magic, a dark branch of Elimination Spells, which were only encounter if one were to spend most of his life training in that area. Metatron had spent several lifetimes researching on it, through countless universes of information.

Lucifer took a step back, though masking his surprise well. He had not thought about that. But he had never been so thorough in research before. That's what made them complement each other so well. Lucifer was ruthless, brash and commanding. Metatron was fine with taking the backseat, though he would normally provide the plans for attack as Lucifer carried them out. Even the attack on the Republic had been Metatron's idea. Understanding the inner weaknesses of the Republic's forces and forts, he had crafted a battle plan so detailed that he sensed Lucifer had been impressed. As he was now.

"It is volatile, Enoch. Very unstable and how do you know it won't backfire on us all?"

Metatron curled his lip in defiance.

"Because I know how to wield it."

Lucifer's eyes shone bright.

At this, Metatron knew that he was done persuading Lucifer. He would do exactly as he wished he would.

The fool.

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**A/N: Oh ho! The plot thickens… REVIEW!!**

**Moiranne Rose**


	15. We Forge For Allies

**A/N: Wootz, exams are over for the moment. So this is the next chapter, and more starch is being added to the plot (i.e. thickening it) so hold on readers, we're going to take the plunge and have a whale of a time in the roller coaster I have planned for you guys and gals.**

**Thanks to ShadowNx, he helped me with it.**

**And hey to Mr. Tan if he sees this!**

_tumtumtumtum_

* * *

**So Near Yet So Far  
**

**Chapter 15: We Forge For Allies**

* * *

All this time, Will had been half-listening and half observing the gleaming surface of the knife they called Zephyron. It was a strange name for a knife, yet looking at the dusky colours that ran below the surface of it, he was reminded of the old myths his mother told him about the Wind God. The stormy knife was a far cry from the colours that had adorned the Subtle Knife. This one seemed more subdued, rather like himself with his age, instead of his passionately ferocious younger day

The daemons described the ever-changing world of the Transit World. The portals whirled every moment, so it was impossible to actually grab one and hold it for long enough to go through, at least if they were to hold it physically. They had to grab it with their minds, through memories of it from the past, to relive them and yet hold a conscious state, so the portal would be in front of them when they wanted it to be.

"But, wait, we don't even have a memory of that world, how are we supposed to call on it?" Lyra demanded.

The daemons nodded slowly, thinking. "We were initially hoping that one of us had at least one memory of it. Kariel? Jeshu?" Kariel shook her head, shamed at her inability to help them. But Jeshu smiled, a strange expression on the stony angel's face, and he reached to them, into their minds, and in a flash, they saw the barren tundra, icy hailstorms, how they felt upon your bare skin, a glimpse of a monstrous feature (was it a hand or a leg or another extremity?) and then a blinding flash of light and they opened their eyes to see the same (almost) scene in front of them.

It was exhausting to say the least, even the angels quivered with the strains holding the world in place. Yet it still moved, struggling almost, to join back the rhythm at which the worlds moved and weaved. Kariel motioned for them to move into the world, while she and Jeshu would hold it for them.

Stepping in was like stepping into another dimension, the air seemed stifling, the tundra was cold through their shoes and the biting winds made their hair messed and bones chilled. They pulled their less-than-ample clothing over themselves, envying the two golden forms that followed them in, the forms that felt no cold or chill.

They looked for a place to begin, and found none but endless grey matter upon endless grey matter.

In an effort to motivate them, as Will believed his job was, he faked with joviality, "That was a start."

Then Lyra rolled her eyes, and muttered, "Not a very good one at that."

* * *

Lucifer listened, for once, attentively, as _Enoch _(he would not call him by his angelic name) detailed the plan for the utter and total desecration of the Transit World. It involved many parties. They needed many things, materials to be harvested from various places. But that was a small problem compared to the bigger task at hand. After sending of the Ladro, a ghostly group of apparitions that were as swift as they were deadly, he flexed his powerful wings, blackened through time, and regarded _Enoch_ with a less than respectful glare.

"Deyanira, doesn't that mean destroyer?"

"Yes it does, but the magic protects the wielder, and in turn, does the work for the wielder."

"And who will the wielder be?" He felt his lip curl in some form of distaste mixed with superiority.

Metatron, wait no, _Enoch_, was wise to stay silent. But he couldn't keep his eyes from widening in fear. Would Lucifer kill to keep himself alive?

Lucifer leaned his head back and indulged in a laugh. "I'll keep you alive, _Enoch_, remember, I still need you, do I not?"

Metatron let out a breath. This assurance was better than none at all. And this was probably going to be the best of anything Lucifer would say. As crude as it sounded, he almost felt proud that Lucifer was "using" him, "favouring" him even. At least, he would survive this round of poker with the Devil. And he was satisfied with that.

After all, he had the upperhand since Lucifer couldn't control the magic without him. And wielding the power, after Lucifer helpfully provided all the materials he needed, would prove to be favourable to his rule over the worlds instead of Lucifer's.

And what's more, Lucifer didn't even know that "Enoch" (in his words) would have thought so far, right?

Not so subtle change in POV

In the dark recesses of the alcove he now perched on, Lucifer rested in the comfort of the shadows. He awaited the arrival of the Ladro, who were tasked to bring back news on the two so-called "Wachtus" of the world. Looking out of the tinted window, blackening the already black sky, he searched with his powerful vision for the wisps of smoke-like forms, which could have effortlessly changed shape into anything and everything the situation required.

They were fierce and ruthless as he was, one of his favourite creations that the Creator had made. The stealing of souls hadn't really been for much use at all. But it was so that those _children_ wouldn't have had the chance to ask those that knew about the Transit World. In another time, another age, another place, there had been two other children, who had been given the duty to the world. Those two had failed the Republic by not accomplishing the Sin needed for the Dust to return. Souris, was it? That was the boy, Jeremy, they'd called him Jem. And the girl was, Hannah, yes. That was her.

Thus, Nature had called another two people to take up the mantle. But in any case, it hadn't worked out; Lyra and Will (were those their names?) had still gotten the information from that blasted angel Xaphania. So he just had to take her out too. Personally, she deserved it, as the head of the Republic's (or the Opposition's, as he would like to call it) army.

Now he just felt bored, and lapsed into the space where you'd be just waiting for something, _anything,_ to happen. And he allowed his mind to ghost around to _Enoch's _own whirring one.

If _Enoch_ hadn't been so full of himself, he would have noticed the presence in his mind that overheard, loud and clear, every single thing. And the stifled amused laugh that was made by the dark fallen angel went (thankfully) unnoticed as well.

* * *

**A/N: Ho ho ho, those two keep deceiving each other. And Grace dear, if you see this, thanks for taking time to read this. And you too Mr. Tan! And thanks to all of the reviewers and another one please? hopeful grin**

**Moiranne Rose (whose fingers are painful cos she typed too long and got them burnt too)**


	16. When Found, Are Not Willing

**A/N: Hey, this is the next chapter! Wootz right? Current status of Plot: Consistency of Cement, that´s how thick it is. So, it´ll get worse for Lyra and Will, Kariel and Jeshu, before it gets better. So stick around and, (warning: Threat) I WILL NOT POST TILL I GET 55 REVIEWS! so there.**

**See you around,**

**Moiranne Rose**

* * *

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 16: When Found, Are Not Willing**

* * *

They'd been walking for over an hour, if hours could be counted in this world. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that they had been walking for what seemed like hours. Their daemons were panting and complaining with the little breath they had left. After so long, they'd expected more than the same gray expanse they'd been seeing for the last hours (or were they just minutes?). They sighed and walked more. The only ones who seemed okay with the idea of continuing their never-ending walking spree were the angels, though Kariel's blue eyes betrayed some form of weariness. Jeshu had no outwardly emotion observable.

Then the long awaited exclamation came, "Is that smoke?" Will pointed towards a small column of black that stood out from the drab environment.

Jeshu trained his experienced vision over the horizon, and nodded slightly, hardly noticeable, but it had the desired effect. Pantalaimon forgot to complain, Lyra forgot about the blister on her heel, Will forgot that he was freezing and Kirjava forgot that she was tired. Kariel simply gave a slight whoop of joy and in her joy, hugged Jeshu. Jeshu's eyes widened in surprise but he did not push her away.

Several hours (that were actually hours) later, they had arrived at the base of the column of smoke. However, this wasn't a column of smoke anymore. It was a weaving column of wood, a tree perhaps. The sculpture seemed so natural, as if it had been persuaded to grow that way. The bark was smooth and betrayed no outwardly signs of cutting or sculpting or grafting, it simply _was_.As king of itchy fingers, Pantalaimon stretched his paw forward and-

"Who goes there?" thundered a sonorous voice, scratchy and distinctly male. Pantalaimon gave a yelp and ran for the refuge that was Lyra's coat. The darkness seemed to part, revealing an immensely large bulk of matter, conformed by weather and climate, hail and rain, beautiful as it was monstrous.

"Business?"

Lyra stammered out, "We seek refuge."

"Friend or Foe?"

This was a hard question. Were they considered friend or foe to these beings? But it was obvious which answer was the most appropriate at the moment.

"Friend." Will decided.

The animal (was it an animal?) resembled most closely, a panther, though its fur had adapted into hardened spikes and armor. Yet its eyes glowed like lightbulbs, a blue tinged stare scoured over their dishevelled clothing and the soft glow of the angels. There was a form of intelligence that followed his gaze and he nodded imperceptibly. Then he turned and padded back through where he came. They followed soundlessly.

He led them through the most amazing set of tunnels that the column concealed. They twisted and turned and throughout the journey, they met with unsuspecting, yet unperturbed beings that were both scary and fascinating at the same time (For an unknown, supposedly uninhabited planet, Will thought privately, their network of pathways were better than the London Subway). They saw fish that could walk, lions that flew on wings with golden-tipped feathers, lizards that had the most vibrant hues, everything and anything imaginable was there. Then the guard left them at a crossroads, while proceeding onwards.

They saw, that they were standing under a magnificent clock tower, one that seemed to run with no power needed. The clock face was inscribed with strange symbols, though looking closer, were shining with the multitude of jewels encrusted under the surface of the glass-like surface. Lyra ran her hand over it admiringly. Jeshu beat his wings carefully, keeping himself slightly aloof. Kariel seemed both deep in thought and also saddened by something. Will took Zephyron from Jeshu, who made no resistance, and tested it on a scrap piece of wood. And they waited. And waited.

Yet, the most awe-inspiring thing was what the guard didn´t show them. He ran through a cavern covered with glowing stalactite and crystal (what looked like crystal), where light reflected upon a being, garbed in a robe of silk-like finery, proud and austere. Her gaze was not unlike Xaphania's, intelligent and aged, yet young and passionate. She seemed to be a complicated mix between a tongue of flame and a fox. Her tail was a blaze of fire, while her snout pointed in an expression of inquiry.

"They have come, my lady."

The corners of her mouth upturned into a ghost of a smile.

"Are they the people we were expecting?" She asked, excited flickers dancing in her eyes.

"There are angels too, ma'am." The guard bowed again.

"Farin, at ease! Angels, those children-"

"My lady, they are no longer children. They are close to what humans call middle-age."

"Where are they now?" Her moonstone-like eyes shone.

"Under the clock tower. They are waiting there."

She pressed her fingers to her chin, thinking. Then she decided.

"Lead them to our guest lodgings."

"Yes, my lady."

Then her eyes grew colder.

"Then lock them in."

"Of course, my lady." He turned to leave, and then turned back.

"May I ask what we will be doing for them?"

The fox-lady's eyes softened for a moment. "They will not find what they seek here. But I am repaying a debt to someone I wronged a long time ago. I misunderstood her intentions. I do not think we can help them. But we can keep them safe for a while. Make sure they are comfortable, okay Farin?"

The guard nodded and padded back down the corridor, leaving her staring into the flickering lights that danced around the cavernous room.

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**A/N: Told you the plot was thickening. Now click that tiny button down there to the left and tell me what you think and what I should do now! And Mr. Tan, if you´ve read this, feel free to comment however you want to. And Grace too.**

**This chapter was brought to you courtesy of ShadowNx and daemon Nax, Moiranne Rose, and her daemon Moira.**

**Au Revoir (yes I learn French)**

**Moiranne Rose**


	17. We Find Our Trust Is Misplaced

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**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 17: We Find Our Trust Is Misplaced**

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Lyra smiled slightly at the dark-haired man next to her. Though she had been enthralled by the two angels (angels were always enthralling), she found herself still drawn to her long-lost-now-he's-found lover. Age had changed him, given him the lines on his forehead after years of frowning and worrying. She knew she had them too. She was not scared of growing older; it wasn't as much older as it was _wiser_. And as long as she still knew how to read the aleithiometer, and she still could remember Will, that seemed enough for her.

"Will?" She was surprised at how soft her voice had come out.

"Yeah?" He answered, turning towards her slowly, as if he was in a dream and all his movements were slowed because of it.

"How's your life?" She smacked herself, why was she saw nervous? This was Will! She knew Will, right?

"Apart from angels, reappearances, Mary grumbling, Kirjava's incessant talking, and our new responsibilities?" She laughed nervously at his half-hearted attempt at a joke.

"Yes, apart from that." She decided that, once again, she needed to rediscover Will again, after 20 years, he had to have changed.

"Well, I started out just studying actually. I studied psychology, which is a branch of studies involving human activities, and how humans work and think."

"Will, I've an aleithiometer. It gives me all the answers I need. But it never says feelings, because they sometimes aren't true or secure enough to be considered "_aleithia". _Tell me feelings, Will."

Will paused. Then he smiled. This wasn't one of those shrinks that insisted on getting to _know_ him by probing into where he didn't want them to be. This was Lyra, and above all, he wanted Lyra to know of what he had felt without her.

He spoke of the initial years, when girls started to take notice of him, they had been hard, as he couldn't put aside the love that Lyra had shared with him. Then he listened as she chronicled the times when she'd been bullied by the seniors at St. Sophia's, who had looked down on the art of reading a hunk of gold. Then his rise to fame had mirrored hers, both of them hardened by experience and adventure, crippled by the same impossible love affair. Threaded into their lives, was the constant mission to build the Republic of Heaven.

They looked up at the clock face, Will snaking his arm round Lyra's waist, protectively. It had been more than an hour (as long as the clock could be read the way the clocks they were used to were read), but Lyra was too happy to care about _wasting _time. This wasn't wasting time. This was catching up. Anyway, talking was better than just waiting.

And looking into the dark eyes of her lover, now completely her lover now that she knew everything, she could see that he didn't mind either.

The footsteps echoed as the guard returned, bounding in enormous strides to stop right in front of the angels, the daemons and the humans.

"I have spoken to my leader. She decided that you will seek refuge in the lodgings we have prepared for such guests. If you would follow me, we will be there in Kyrts."

"Kyrts?" Kirjava questioned.

"About three-quarters of a minute." Jeshu explained shortly.

The daemon whirled around, first in shock that he had actually spoke, and for the fact that he knew about the world. But there was no time to ask questions. The guard was moving off, and they had to run fast, or glide, in the case of the angels, to catch up with his strides. The male angel retreated into silence again.

They were guided another set of tunnels, if it was possible to fit so many networks in the underground of such a world. There were beautiful implanted plants, that had flowers with iridescent colors which reflected the light provided by torches hung periodically every few strides. There were beings that floated past them, or flew past, or strode past. But their new lodgings were amazing to say the least.

The cavern had widened into a hollow, cave-like structure, which had a massive oaken door that concealed its inner beauty. There were two clear crystal windows and inside, there was a carpet of some unknown, soft material. They were just admiring the finery of the bedroom suites,when they heard the doors close, heavily, and they heard a low clanking, and a resonant click. Their eyes met, all 6 pairs, and they all widened in shock.

They'd been locked in.

Lyra gave a scream, Will gave a yell, and the two lovers ran down the spiraling staircase they had only just started admiring and proceeded to bang on the 5-inch thick oak doors, in a rather childish way.

"Don't. It's pointless, they won't hear your cries."

Lyra whirled around seconds before Will did. But Will got the question in before her.

"How do you know?"

"They never heard my friends..." He sighed, even stranger than if it came from Kariel.

"Your friends? You've been here before?"

And he had.

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**A/N: Oh dear, is that a cliffhanger? Well, looks like Jeshu has secrets too. Why does everyone seem to have so many things they can't talk about? Human nature I suppose.**

**This chapter was brought to you by ShadowNx and Moiranne Rose (with respective daemons).**

**And the next one won't come till the review count reaches 60. I may have let you off this round, but it's only because of Clara. So there. Seriously.**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging)**


	18. Momentuous Decisions are Made

**A/N: I know what I said about the reviews okay. But I realized (you can check my profile on this), that I shouldn't be not posting just because I'm indirectly begging for non-existent reviews. So on with the stories, and no more slavery to reviews for me!**

**Moiranne Rose**

* * *

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 18: Momentuous Decisions are Made**

**(Note: This chapter starts with a flashback, as stated.)**

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_(Flaskback Sequence starts)_

"_Jeshu! You go too!" demanded Xaphania, resolutely._

_He saluted his commander and swooped down to follow his comrades into the new world. With the honour of being chosen, came the frightened anticipation that he felt about venturing into the unknown. His wings batted carefully, just keeping above the ground._

_The portal was found after years of looking amongst the different portals. Having only just found it, there had been angels that tirelessly followed it as it pulsed round the Transit World. He flew towards it with the trainee battalion of new angels. Their eyes had just turned obsidian black from the various earthly colours of blues and browns. Jeshu's had been hazel._

"_We're here." It was his friend, Jenus. He had been his earthly friend too, having ascended with him._

_They stepped through together, Jeshu's bright eyes picking up the surroundings. Grey expanses followed grey expanses. They'd been walking for a while, when..._

_All at once, his world seemed to explode in noises. Screams and yells from the angels, followed by the savage roar of a monstrous hulk. The animal, if it could be called one, had eight legs, resembling an over-sized spider. However, every leg ended in a set of deadly claws. He saw his friend's eyes widen with the fear he knew was in his eyes too. Then he felt a crashing on his head, his vision swam, and he fell to his knees, then to the ground, unconscious._

_He woke up in a cell, bare and cold. He shivered, looking to his left and right. "Jenus!" He cried out._

_He heard a weak voice echo from the other corner of the cell._

"_You've been out for at least 40 Kyrts, based on the time system the guards change."_

"_Kyrts?"_

"_Half an hour. Approximately."_

"_What did they do to you?"_

"_Nothing I can't take."_

"_Jenus."_

"_Jeshu, you have to get out of here."_

"_Oh yes, like I can walk through walls and kill half-a-dozen guards along the way right?"_

"_No. But come here."_

_Jeshu found just enough strength in him to crawl over. He could feel his friend's cool hands find his face, and then his forehead. Then he felt a sharp heat, a whispered "Goodbye", a gasp of pain (though not sure whether it was from him or Jenus) and he blinked against the bright light that surrounded him. He was in the Kingdom of Heaven again._

_(Flashback Sequence ends)_

Jeshu turned away, his eyes unreadable with tears.

"What happened?" Kariel asked, apparently, she hadn't known Jeshu any better than Lyra or Will had.

"He died. Along with a dozen other angels. He teleported me back with the last bit of his strength." Jeshu's voice betrayed no feelings as he stood. His tone was matter-of-fact, and told the others that he had no more intent on sharing anymore, save what he muttered,

"I do not trust them."

And Lyra and Will turned to each other, trying to fight the urge to agree.

Then the a series of locks, which opened in a series of complicated clicks, didn't allow for them to think much more. Then the door opened to reveal an over-sized fox, which wore a tunic of flowing material, finer than silk even. All of them turned, and for some strange reason, came to the conclusion that she was probably the leader. Though she had no tiara, or crown, her aura was enough to show her power.

She bowed as she entered, in respect. They all bowed back, before the fox invited herself to sit, seeing the less-than-welcoming stares she was given.

"Geneva. And you are?"

"Sal-" she started on a fake name, then decided against it, "-Lyra."

"Will."

"Kariel and Jeshu." Kariel answered for both of them, Jeshu stayed behind his silence.

"Why are you here?" She asked, getting straight to the point.

Lyra shared a look with Will. Could they trust a person that wished to keep them out of the way? That had locked them in? He shook his head ever so slightly. So he wouldn't take the chance then.

"We sought refuge, after we were exiled from our land."

The moonstone eyes made her uncomfortable.

"Now tell me why you really came here."

Lyra didn't know where she had gotten her probing powers from, but she didn't want to know either. She sighed and gave the truth as commanded.

"We need an army to go against Lucifer's army."

The fox's eyebrows raised, she could not hide her surprise.

"Fight Lucifer?"

"Yes." Lyra's conviction hid her unsureness.

"You know that's impossible. We cannot help you. It is suicide."

Will could see Lyra's eyes flare with anger. Pantalaimon glided up her arm and shared her passionate fury. Even Kirjava's frazzling rage could be felt through his bond with her.

"How dare you? How dare you say that this is suicide?" Lyra was near boiling point.

"Is it not?" The fox was infuriatingly calm.

"It is only if you have no faith! We could all just go home and give up and cry into our pillows because it's too _hard_! And it is! But we can't!"

"Why not?" Still the cool voice.

"Because that's not what this is about! It's not about what we feel like doing! It's about having the responsibility and the _honor_ to take it and do the best you can do. That's why I can keep my head up. Because, after all of this, I will know, that at least, _I _didn't shirk duties just because I thought it was hopeless!

Don't you understand? It doesn't matter what I feel about this. It doesn't matter what Will thinks, or what Kariel thinks, Jeshu, or even our daemons! It has to do with what has to be done! So it's better to do what we have to as best as we can, instead of trying to hide from it."

"We are a single force against multitudes. Thinking logically, there is no point." She passed it off.

"No point? Let me tell you this, this war will come to this world whether or not you fight with us. So if you're just going to cower amongst your fineries, you won't be comfortable for long. Every world is in danger, even this one."

Geneva was surprised, and it showed. Could Lyra, somehow, see that she was scared? Maybe it was something in Lyra's voice, or maybe the way she said it, or the truth inside it, but something in her voice had made Geneva stop and listen.

"So, you are saying this is my fate to choose to follow you?" She treaded carefully, not wanting to spark Lyra off again.

Lyra sighed, her head susceptible to aches due to stress. "It is not destiny. We do not have a script to read from. We make our destinies. That's why we have choices. And now you know yours. So?"

Geneva felt a sudden weight on her decision. Either way, she would be putting herself in a dangerous position. Yet, she knew in her heart, it was more than Lyra's words. She owed Xaphania, after she had wronged her and killed the angels that had invaded their world, the first since it began. That had been fear. Would fear affect her decision again?

She looked at the people around Lyra. Will. He had one hand on a knife that looked mystical and powerful, and his eyes shone with a form of love so pure and true, that she smiled slightly. Lyra was lucky to have someone like that. She could literally feel the importance of the two of them. She knew of the prophecy, and what it had made Lyra and Will do. They were intrepid, and equal to any challenge. Their daemons were strange, hardly normal, yet perfect examples of their souls.

Then she looked at the angels. The male one, Jeshu, was it? She recognized him vaguely, though she didn't know from where. Something about the way he was staring at her told her that it hadn't been a pleasant meeting. Then the other, strong, yet young, very young for an angel. Her stature suggested power, yet vulnerability. They were worthy allies for the two outstanding humans.

Then she remembered the beauties of this world she had lived in all her life. The crystals that grew on their own accord, the animals that adapted and merged flawlessly into forms of pure

flawlessness. Were they worth fighting for? Were they worth the blood that would be spilled?

Then she decided.

"Yes, we will help you."

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**A/N: Not as bad a cliffie is it? Well, considering this is the best of my fanfictions, I will need time to think about my next few chapters, so I hope that you guys stick around, and be pacified, however slightly, as I struggle through exams before bringing the next chapter around for all of you.**

**Like before, this chapter was brought to you by ASUS Eee PC, Moiranne Rose and daemon Moira, ShadowNx and daemon Nax, as well as all the reviewers who have stuck around.**

**Lotsa Hugs, Kisses, and Platonic Love,**

**Moiranne Rose**


	19. Realizations, Less than perfect Moments

**So Near Yet So Far**

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**Chapter 19: Realizations, Less-than-perfect Moments**

**(A/N: Plot consistency: A mix between my mum's oatmeal (gross) and tar.) Embedded brackets?!  
**

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_(significant time has passed)_

They were walking through the same swerving corridors all over again. And they were finally able to see the world, really _see _it . And they realized, the scary monsters they had presumed the Forgottens to be were actually animals that had adapted so well, that they had no need for food or drink of any sort and lived solely on light from a certain type of fungus. It was altogether amazing and hard to believe.

"We are the Forgottens. When the Creator made our planet, he chose to give it up in the hope of another more successful planet. He forgot to kill off the animals living on it. Instead he just sent a forever-long hailstorm to kill us off. Too bad it didn't work. Some of us lived and adapted, and slowly, we made a life of our own. As all creations are made and formed."

"What did he give this planet up for?"

There was a punctuating sigh, before, "Your world, William Parry."

"Wait...how...how?" His bit of a question was answered.

"You and Lyra were the Prophecy's chosen ones. After the Fallen, had to come the Saviors."

"The Fallen?" Lyra asked.

Geneva whirled around, her flaming tail narrowly missing Pantalaimon's form, which hurriedly scrambled back into Lyra's coat.

"They are the first Chosen pair. But they failed. Thus you were chosen. Both of you."

"Who...there are people who are like us? Who?"

"You are acquainted to them, I should think."

"Wait...both of us know them?"

"Well, they were both from your worlds, which, just to say, are very small indeed."

Will and Lyra's eyes met, and then they widened in unison.

"Professor Souris!" "Dame Hannah!"

"Souris? No, his name was Jeremy, and hers was Hannah."

"Wait, that means...why were their daemons taken?"

The fox raised an amused eyebrow.

"Why, isn't it quite uncommon to see a demon rise from the soil and hack them to death? I imagine, Lucifer would've been smart enough to send some of his minions to take their consciousness away. They're useless like this anyway."

"So, they were deprived of their memory, so they...why?"

"Because they had become acquainted to you! Lucifer didn't want them to give you any more advantage to heap onto the luck, ability, and wisdom you already have!" The fox seemed slightly irritated by their ignorance.

Realization hit like hammer, and struck both of them with the same blow. Their mentors, both of them, had been the Fallen, nonetheless, the Chosen Pair before them. It was too much of a coincidence, but they had no other way of explaining it.

Lyra gasped, and seemed to faint for a second, body limp in shock of new revelations. But Will was there in a heartbeat, grabbing her before she fell. Normally, this would have been a picture-perfect moment, the actress falling in a much-too-graceful arc, and the slow motion of the actor running and catching her in a much-too-synchronized movement. And then one perfectly shared gaze. But this was nothing like that.

Lyra's face was too green with sickness, and splotchy and wet with tears.

Will's arms almost missed her.

Her eyes looked at him before his focused on hers.

But the Love was universal.

And also interrupted for the moment.

They were suddenly (their feet had been moving faster than they had thought) in a large hall, with a ceiling doming above their heads. The many facades of the clear structure caught the little light and multiplied it over and over. One candle could have lit the whole cave, if placed at the correct spot. And that was exactly what Geneva did.

She walked to the centre of the dome, and upon an altar, she lit a candle with a flick of her tail. The flickers multiplied into magnitudes till the whole dome was filled with light. Then she turned back towards them though, as if in a trance, not seeing them. Instead she let out the most shrill, shocking, sonorous set of sounds that amplified themselves on the walls and passed in and out of the corridors running from it. In seconds, beats of feet slammed the ground in tandem. In minutes, those beats turned into powerful beasts that reared their proud heads and scrutinized the two humans who were currently feeling quite scared (with daemons that did so too) and two angels that simply looked on impassively (though Kariel still appeared like she was frowning).

"Sit Generals, Commanders, Lieutenants."

There was no arguments made. They simply got up and moved. Chairs and a gleaming marble table came from nowhere. But no one except Will, Lyra, Pantalaimon and Kirjava looked surprised. Then they realized, unlike in movies, where tables and chairs materialized because of magic, that it was simply because that part of the room had been the last to be lit up by the single candle's glow.

Then Will and Lyra noticed that there were four seats left empty. Geneva waved them over to sit. While they were expecting some form of fanfare as a welcome, or an interrogation of how they saved the worlds when they were thirteen, they never got that. Looking at the fierce-beautiful faces that looked towards them, they were all battle-hardened and ferocious. They did not need to admire two humans who had, at best, more luck than them.

"Let's get on with it then." A wolf, which was like a normal wolf, though it had fur that were actually icicles.

"Yes, let's." A snake that had ruby-like scales, and eyes of opal.

"So, Lucifer." A spider with a large turquoise teardrop on her abdomen allowed her (as it turned out) question to hang as a statement.

"He does not believe in unity. We can use that against him." The very same guard that had guided them into their less-than-comfortable lodgings.

"How?" Lyra couldn't help but want to get into the conversation and make her point heard. All the Generals, Lieutenants, Commanders, whatever they were, seemed to halt their winding conversation and stare at her. They seemed to reproach her for asking such a question. Why? She didn't know how...

Then she knew what she had to do. Her trembling fingers pulled the golden aleithiometer from her pouch and her work-worn fingers moved to the dials, as if aching to turn them, to set the question. Yet her mind clouded with the questions she wanted to ask too, and they mixed and swirled, and she was suddenly completely astray from the original plan.

Will saw her eyes fearful, and he felt a flashback to the time, Lyra was so scared, her blue eyes gleamed with confusion, she'd forgotten, forgotten everything, the hopelessness rushed over the two of them... But this time, he mastered the feelings with his faith in Lyra, she had not given up her life just to forget again.

He leaned over to her. And his hand came to her temple and swept her hair, that dangled with cold (it was freezing) sweat, behind her ear. Yet though this scene seemed perfectly part of their moment in the past merging with their present selves, it was still no movie. It was still the present. And it had the desired effect.

Her eyes cleared and she smiled at Will, in that same melting way, and he smiled back. And her head bent over the aleithiometer again.

Her eyes flicked from picture to picture as the needle moved around and around. She seemed to sink into her own world, then she pulled back, eyes glowing with newfound knowledge.

And all the people around her seemed to wish, in one silent voice, that it was hope too.

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**A/N: Whoo! Seems like things are getting better! WOOTZ aye?**

**Thanks to ShadowNx for editing and all you dear reviewers. You totally make my day!**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging)**


	20. When We Seem To Be Getting Somewhere

**So Near Yet So Far**

Brought to you by: Moiranne Rose and ShadowNx (plus respective daemons)

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**Chapter 20: When We Seem to Be Getting Somewhere**

* * *

Lyra smiled. A slight smile. But it had the desired effect. The smile spread to everyone else at the bejeweled table. Though it was quite weird to see war-hardened creatures, whose faces were more inclined to grimace, smile. But then again, this was no normal situation. I mean, getting a scrap of information when the worlds are threatening to collapse on you and every being was about to become brain-dead blind followers of fallen angels, that's not something you see every day is it?

"So, what is it?" demanded the generals in one synchronized gruff voice.

Lyra suddenly became scared of what she had to tell. It would not be easy, and, now that she thought of it, it might be too big a task to achieve. She did not want to give them false hope…

Then Will smiled, one of those hesitant, genuine smiles he produced only when Lyra was about. Lyra took comfort in his smile, and rose with her newfound information.

"We need to infiltrate the ranks of Lucifer."

You could see the widening of eyes and the parting of mouths, signifying the generals' incredulity at such a statement. Lucifer was not to be trifled with, even by the strongest. To infiltrate the ranks required not just the supporting manpower, it required the risk of death upon able spies, and even then, there were only two outcomes, success or death. And what was this all for?

"What do we need to do in there, that we can't do from the outside?" Geneva asked for the whole body of commanders.

"The aleithiometer-" at their questioning stares, Lyra gestured towards the golden truth-teller, "-revealed that we need to hit at the weakest point, for the highest chance of victory. We need to convince Metatron-" they nodded, they knew the one she talked about. "-to defect. And if we succeed-"

"If? The alei...alei... whatever it is, it doesn't say whether we will be successful or not?"

Lyra sighed.

"The aleithiometer is not a fortune teller, it does not reveal the future. It merely serves as a teller of the truth, of what must be done, in the present, to have a chance at the chosen future. We make our own destinies, we don't need a hunk of gold metal to tell it to us."

Will sensed she might break into a tirade, her fists were clenched in impatience.

"So, does the aleithiometer tell us what to do?"

Thankfully, the generals all turned back to her, their attentions brought back to the tawny-haired thirty-year old lady who stood erect at the head of the table.

Lyra frowned, as if confused, though it was hard to believe that she, after 20 years of studying the art of reading the aleithiometer, would be confused with it. But only one person at the table knew that it was not her comprehension of the aleithiometer's message, rather it was the whimsicality of the way the Dust-driven device worked.

"What does it say, human?" The gruff voice of the bear, or something that resembled a bear, rumbled.

Lyra looked offended at the title, but kept her composure. She swallowed audibly.

"Sacrifice."

* * *

A dark form rose out of the shadowed throne, and summoned a being of translucence, the filmy form immediately materializing. Whispered words hardly louder than the softest breeze throwing up a crackly dead leaf, and immediate comprehension. The being swirled out of the window, accompanied by snickers that turned into mocking cacophony that followed the being towards its desired targets.

* * *

The word had caused much discussion to erupt within the conferring parties. Some argued what the sacrifice was, some the purpose of it, some the credibility of a "young-blood" which caused Lyra to be quaver with anger and needed Will to compose her. But the confusion was rather evident, and Lyra had no way of probing anything else out of the aleithiometer. It was days like this when she knew it was practically like having a real person within it, it was stubborn as a mule.

Then amid the anger, the frustration and the instability, she felt an alien force touch her consciousness. She thought it was simply a headache at first, but then it grew more painful each second and she felt a distant tugging, and some strange feeling of deja-vu.

Will's hand was in hers, but it was as if it wasn't. Her hand felt neither warmth nor comfort as she seemed to struggle between the two forces, the alien one that pulled her towards some unknown, possibly sinister destination, and her own consciousness, _Pan,_ pulling her back. Was she alone in this battle?

Then Will choked. She turned to him, it was no ordinary choke. It was like, something grabbed him violently and caused him to choke. Was it the same thing? Was it the same..._pulling_? He struggled and gasped, but drowned out by the heated debates that flew round the table.

Pain! They felt nothing exist in the world just pain. Their sight faded then returned, while they felt like their heart was severed from their body. It was like the feeling they felt when they have entered the world of dead but way, _way_ stronger. The room was whirling, colors melting into each other. Their eyes teared at the pain but their hands hardly had the strength to wipe those hateful tears away.

Lyra couldn't believe this was happening. She and Pan swore a long time ago that they rather die than being separated.

But the realization, of what exactly the pulling was, only hit Lyra when she looked at Pan and Kirjava. They were...melting? Dissolving? Disappearing? Their shapes mussed and cleared and then blurred all over again. Their paws scrabbled the air, fending off an invisible foe. And then there was a slight whoosh sound, so silent, and Lyra grabbed for Will's falling hand, before she found herself, through one last, horrible, terribly strong tug, pulled in darkness.

Her fading link with Pan was severed after he yelled the name of the one who was doing all of this, the one they hadn't expected to come back.

"_Ladro!"_

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**A/N: Oh dear, I'm making their situation drop from dire with hope to dismal. Oh boy, stick around to see me pull my plot, stolen characters and settings into a gloriously epic finish. It might just be save-able. Reviews are welcome :)  
**

**Moiranne Rose**


	21. NOT A CHAPTER, BUT DO READ!

**Demon Profiling**

**LADRO**

_Translation_: _Thief_

**Appearance:** Filmy, ghost-like, spectral forms

**Why are they deadly?**

They steal souls from any being that has one, whether inside or outside.

**Previous Appearances in SNYSF:**

Chapter 7: Steals Professor Souris' daemon, Sylvia

Chapter 8: Steals Dame Hannah's daemon, Saelem

Chapter 20: Tried to steal Pan and Kirjava from Will and Lyra. Because of Will and Lyra's witch-like powers, Pan and Kirjava are pulled into Darkness (the world where all the stolen daemons go) but Will and Lyra remain with their consciousness.

**Origin:**

Originally, they were called Specters. But they evolved over the 20 years and became daemon thieves, being able to steal any daemon, child or adult. They come from the Abyss and from the Darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Hope this explains who the Ladro are and what they're doing. Chapter 20 will take a while, but it'll be worth it. With exams this week and the next, I;m scared that it might be very long. I've dropped hints in this about the next chapter, so this should suffice for the time being :)**

**I shall go cower in a corner now.**

**Moiranne Rose**


	22. We'll Fall Back to the Start

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 21: We'll Fall Back to the Start**

**A note from the Author:**

**Hey y'all! Thanks for sticking by me, even when I had to get through examinations and whatnot. Now that I'm free, you'll see the updates more frequently! Though I have quite a few other ongoing fics that I'll have to attend to too. We'll see.**

**But they'll be _more_ frequent, I can promise that.**

**MR**

* * *

The limp forms of the daemons stirred. Geneva half-rose from her seat, but the daemons moved no more. She slumped back into her seat, moonstone eyes almost betraying more than dry interest. They shone ethereally, as the reflected light in the dome caught the reflective eyes. The few hours that had elapsed since Lyra and Will had mysteriously disappeared, and the beings that had kept up the silent vigil all betrayed the fatigue of the worry and time. The generals had all retired to their quarters, with only Geneva, Jeshu and Kariel left watching the two forms struggle back to consciousness.

Jeshu lifted his head wearily, it had taken a lot of energy to heal the two. Thankfully, the boundaries of their bond with Lyra and Will extended through dimensions and worlds. But it did not stop the separation from being more than just painful. It was capable of draining a person's consciousness so much, that there was hardly anything left. To hold both their fragile minds together was taxing to say the least.

His willpower had to hold both their bonds together, grabbing hold of them grimly, steadfastly, totally letting his energy be consumed. Flinging himself across worlds was as taxing as teleporting there himself. But thankfully, the daemons were easier to preserve than their humans, being simpler to hold onto, being pure beings of Dust. Their consciousness was purer, simpler to grasp hold of than Lyra's or Will's.

Kariel was flitting around the room, hardly stopping. Anxiety emanated from her person. She couldn't find something she was able to help with. She was still energized, as angels needed no rest. But her powers (in combat) could hardly be utilized in such a situation. Her inexperience (it was only her 10th year as an angelic form, hardly more than a "sophomore" in the area) was yet another barrier. She needed to break the silence, never being one for quiet and reflection.

"...Jeshu?"

He turned to her, giving her his attention, though he made no sound.

"Is it possible to..." she trailed off. Would he think she had lost hope or that she was foolish and young if she said this?

"Yes?" His cool voice was not as welcoming or warm as she would have wished.

"Is it possible...to win this?"

He turned back to the daemons' comatose forms. His next question did not demand an answer.

"Is there a choice?"

* * *

Lucifer reclined in his throne. His fingers grasped the armrests, the twisted wood hardened through time, blackened by the fire. His muscles flexed, a reminder that there was no stopping him. His lip curled at the sight of _Enoch_ in front of him. His pathetic crippled form, after falling into the Abyss, his nearly blinded eyes, all of it repulsed him greatly.

Metatron stood in front of him, letting himself be raked by the wrathful gaze of the Fallen Angel. His piercing black eyes, the only pieces of darkness that reflected the little light of the smoldering fire. He was now wholly aware of every flaw that he had, his failing sight, his weakened limbs, everything. All of it scorned by Lucifer greatly.

"Enoch." The snarling sound reminded him of a dangerous serpent.

"Lucifer."

"You realize that blood will be involved."

"Yes, that is part of the Deyanira Magic. Whoever gives his blood will be linked to the magic, allowing him to wield it to destroy the thing he wants most to be destroyed."

"And you think the person should be?"

Metatron knew he was leading him on, he _wanted _him to slip up, and say something he shouldn't have. He was equal to Lucifer's _games_.

"Whoever you deem able to carry out the duty, Lucifer."

Lucifer sensed his "playing hardball". He laughed slightly, though the sound was hardly merry.

"Well, Enoch, I trust that you've heard the saying that, when you want something to be done properly," his eyes glittered like obsidian and dark in the gloom.

"You have to do it yourself."

* * *

Will came to before Lyra did. He opened his eyes, but it was as if he hadn't opened them at all. All around them was impenetrable darkness. Just blackness, with no light at all, in the miles around them, there was not even a small light. Just dark and cold.

He scooted over to where he could here silent breathing. He felt Lyra's firm forearm, and traced it to her shoulder, and then to her face, and then carefully patted her cheek. She stirred and mumbled,

"...Will?"

He thanked the heavens that she was alive and fine enough to speak.

"Yeah?"

"Where're we?"

"Uhh..." He told the truth. "I don't know."

"Where's Pan? Where's Kirjava? Where are they?!" Her voice raised suddenly and hysterically, as she realized the absence of her daemon and his.

"I don't know, Lyra. I wish I did."

"Oh Will, I told Pan I'd never leave him again! Never!"

"The same as I promised Kir. But we couldn't prevent the-" He gulped at the name. "-Ladro from taking us."

"Do you think they were on bidding of Lucifer?"

"I wouldn't be surprised..."

They lapsed into silence, for there wasn't much to say, when you didn't know much at all.

_Lyra..._

_Will..._

"Did you call me Will?"

"No. Did you call _me _Lyra?"

"No..."

"Then...who?"

_Come...There is no more time..._

They both felt cool hands grasp theirs. Their eyes met, in the darkness, though no light could have told them where the other's eyes were. Their fear and premonition were felt by the other. But they resolved, they had nothing to else to lose.

They allowed themselves to be guided, to some unknown destination they weren't sure they wanted to know of.

* * *

**A/N: Oh NO! Where are they going? That's for me to write, and you to read. When I'm done with the next chapter of course!**

**Thanks to the beloved Gabor and daemon Nax. And all you faithful reviewers/readers.**

**And if you're stuck waiting between chapters, or if SNYSF is getting you down, go check out my other HDM fanfiction, Will and Lyra: Worlds Apart. It's pre-SNYSF and a humour fic.**

**Till next time darlings,**

**MR (still not begging, just wishing)  
**


	23. All We Have is Each Other

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 23: All We Have, is Each Other**

**Summary: Darkness brings forth Light, In the War comes prospects of Salvation, in Plotting Minds and Evil Plans comes room for failure. Hope is rekindled, however slightly.**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Alliekat1996 and Lucky's Girl, the former because she needs this, and the latter for her amazing reviews (ego-boosters xD).**

* * *

Lyra felt the cool, almost icy touch round her wrist not altogether unpleasant. In fact, it almost felt like it was something she had experienced before. Though, for the life of her, she couldn't remember when she had. She dearly wanted to confide in Will, knowing he would understand (Will _always_ understood). But however undemanding the touch and the pull felt, the silence around them felt heavy and made words unable to come out. It was as if, though there was no rule about it, she was not _allowed_ to speak. Not until spoken to at least.

--

Will felt that the beings had stopped. Or at least, the urge to continue moving had stopped. He reached out to his left, his right, but he felt nothing but icy coldness. There was no comforting warmth of Lyra's hand. Just black _cold_. If there was any word to describe the feeling, it would have to be...cold. But not, he mused, not alone. There was this feeling that a thousand unseen eyes were peering at him, like he was the main character of a play he didn't know the lines for. He wondered if Lyra, wherever she was, felt the same way.

--

In fact, Lyra did. She felt the expectation, the silent demands of her. Was she meant to say something?

_Lyra..._

_Who...who is it? Who are you? Where are we? Why are we here?_

_Questions, questions. Too many questions. It helps just to listen sometimes._

This second consciousness seemed to belong to a different person. Something in the tone, the sound of the thoughts being projected was different. Not altogether alien, but the first voice seemed to emanate a form of familiarity Lyra could remember. The memories just slipped from her grasp when she tried to get to them.

_Patience, Chosen Ones. Patience._

Her heart beat harder. Patience? She had no patience for such willful, intangible things. Who knew? Maybe if she ignored them, the voices would just go away. She reached for Will, _her_ Will. He would feel the same.

But Will's hand, solid and _alive_, was not there to be taken.

_Child, to your left, slightly further than before, in front of you._

She could feel the ring of heat pulsing from Will before she actually touched him. And in that one touch, she felt courage return to her. Will felt it too, she knew it like she knew her own name. His firm squeeze of her hand told her that.

She heard Will's voice, though not with her ears. She heard it like she heard Pan's voice when they didn't want to speak aloud. It was in her head, yet not a figment of imagination.

_Who are you?_

There was the sensation of someone laughing, not unkindly. Two people actually.

_You'd think they'd recognize us, wouldn't they?_

Lyra and Will looked to each other. Then there was a feeling of comprehension that stretched from Lyra to Will and back again, through their joined hands, through their overlapping consciousness. They broke out into a smile, one of the few they had made in this last...week? Month? Time seemed immaterial at present.

_Dame Hannah._

_Professor Souris._

The two Fallen made no move to acknowledge this point.

_There is little time. We must hurry._

_Hurry? What? To do what?_

Will had the feeling they always needed to hurry. He was so tired. Couldn't they just rest for a moment?

_We must plan. We must plot. We must overthrow._

_Overthrow? Lucifer?_

_Everything that attacks the worlds._

_How will we help?_

There was a moment of silence.

_You are the Chosen Ones. There is no option not to help. Your skills, we made sure were always up to scratch. Now, we must put them to use._

It was around this point, when Will and Lyra stopped thinking "Why us?" and started thinking. "We are Chosen.".

* * *

Pantalaimon could see a light. A faint light in all the blackness of his surroundings.

_Lyra..._

He felt a distant thrumming, a repeated rhythm. He tried to move towards the light, and the source of the sound, but he was weighed down by fatigue.

Then he felt a certain missed beat. The thrumming went on, but every so often, a small beat was just that tiny bit off. He started to feel nervous, helpless and restless. He needed to get up now. He struggled against the weariness, and finally, finally cracked open a single eyelid. Bright light surged forth and eclipsed the image of the blackness and the sound of the thrumming.

"Hey, Jeshu! They're up!"

He could hear the happiness in Kariel's voice. Kirjava stirred next to him. She was up too. He should feel happy. He should feel glad.

But he felt a certain apprehension, that something, somewhere, was very, very wrong.

* * *

Lucifer laced his fingers together, resting his arms on the knarled armrests of his throne.

Everything was going according to plan, building up in a crescendo to the finale.

And for the first time since he had fallen from the heavens, he laughed out loud, a true, triumphant laugh.

* * *

**A/N: Oh no...If Lucifer laughs, that means something bad's about to happen. But what? I'll have to write the next chapter.**

**As always, thanks goes out to the beloved beta (alliteration!) Gabor and his daemon Nax.**

**MR (still not begging, just wishing)  
**


	24. A Time For Listening and Learning

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 24: The Time for Listening and Learning**

**Summary: Sometimes, we have to listen before we can truly understand. And sometimes, we must tell our own stories.**

* * *

**A/N: This came a long way. I only just got around to doing (finishing) this today. So hopefully, it's okay? I shall retreat behind my fortress for protection against angry reviewers who had to wait too long.**

* * *

_Dedicated to: (who knew?) The Wonderful CJ. Who helped me with a non-existent synonym of "darkness" and the anatomy of wings. And lots of random chatting that helped with the harder parts, for some reason._

_

* * *

__Lyra...Will..._

They felt the strong tug of a consciousness that went far deeper into them then just the simple dragging arm. This was a physical, a mental and an emotional pull. They made them want to move towards the direction, not a reluctant stumble towards it.

_Come. Come with us._

They moved towards the voice, closer, just longing to be closer. The tugging stopped and they stopped obediently.

_Sit._

They lowered onto the ground, which seemed to move up and down like calming waves. They no longer felt the urge to speak, but they were unsure if that was caused by their mentors' link to their mind or their trust in the Fallen.

_Listen carefully._

**Yes. Listen to us.**

Lyra found that she could know distinguish clearly who was talking. It was as if an image of the person, was being projected into her mind. Even though she'd never seen Professor Souris before, he gave her an image of him in a picture with a large class of youths. She faintly saw dark hair and a jutting jaw which made her smile slightly, before the picture faded away.

_Before your time, our time, right at the Beginning, there was the story of Adam and Eve. We trust you have known this story before._

Lyra and Will nodded, then realised how silly it was nodding, when your audience couldn't see you. Yet their voices congested in their throats and they found they couldn't speak. They had the strangest feeling that someone was laughing, two people were laughing.

**We can see you. Do not worry.**

_So the story of Adam and Eve, you know that they performed the Original Sin, and thus brought Dust to the Worlds. _

There was another awkward pause as Will and Lyra nodded to the darkness and stopped and felt so confused and silly.

_They did more than just eat a fruit, you know._

**They made a Sacrifice.**

Will jerked up slightly. Lyra swore that for a moment, at the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes flash in the blackness. But she couldn't be sure. It could have been another facet of the intense lack of any light. Maybe her _want_ for light had made her think that.

_The Sacrifice of Youth and Innocence. They gave up Heaven, Eden, all its riches._

**For the Worlds. All of them.**

Lyra found that finally, the pressure in her throat lifted.

"Are we...destined to do the same? To Sacrifice?"

_We do not talk about destiny, for it is simply what we create through our choices. Live for today and its challenges. Leave tomorrow alone. Sacrifice is merely another choice to be made._

"Is it...'compulsory'?" Will's voice, that echoed in all their minds, trembled slightly.

**Is it like Parents not to Sacrifice for their children?**

The haunting question demanded no answer.

"Pan? What is it?"

Kirjava's sensitive nature and compassionate personality saw right through his stoic expression. She nuzzled him slightly.

"Uhh? Nothing." He mumbled, unconvincingly.

"Come on Pan. Don't insult my intelligence. Now tell me. Tell us."

He did the pine marten version of biting his lip.

"I felt a disruption in the Harmony."

"The Harmony? Where did you get that name from?"

He hesitated. Where _had_ he gotten it from?

"It just...felt right...to call it that."

Kirjava furrowed her brow. Kariel cocked her head to the side. Jeshu leaned back against a marble pillar and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.

"Harmony...What Harmony could it be?"

Pantalaimon, for the first time in his life, found himself unable to express himself. He struggled for the right words.

"Like, a mighty Symphony. With one person playing the wrong note. If you're listening and not looking for it, you can't hear it. But if you listen really carefully, there's a note that's played wrong every single time."

The silence that followed had the air of whirring minds.

"Is it like...beats?" Kariel's voice broke through it, crystal clear words that tinkled and chimed sweetly.

"Yeah...like that. Very much like that."

"What made you choose the word 'Harmony'?" Jeshu's voice, having only heard it a handful of times before, was cold, aloof and demanding.

Pantalaimon frowned and thought.

"It was like a Harmony. Like everything just _fit_ perfectly together. And then there's someone, something which just disrupts it with a single misplaced finger, a single misread note. Harmony implies perfect blending. That's what it was...till...it got messed up."

Jeshu nodded, imperceptibly.

"You heard the Music of the Worlds."

Metatron's wings experimentally flapped, their torn vanes and ripped-away feathers had just healed over. Though movements were still crude and impaired. He stared out of the window, out into the plains sprawling around Lucifer's fortress. They're charred and reek of death. Yet out there seems infinitely preferable to the claustrophobia-inducing cramped rooms, which make you mad from the silence.

His hand ran over the bars that locked him in. Lucifer's "homey" guest quarters.

_Just wait Lucifer. Just you wait._

As much as he promised himself revenge, he knew, deep in his heart, that that was something he couldn't get for himself. Not against someone as mighty as Lucifer.

Or someone who would just throw him back into the Abyss without another glance.

**A/N: Oh dear. This is getting somewhere. Which means...*tumtumtumtum* it's ending! Oh NO!**

**About 6 (?) more chapters to go darlings. Hang in there. An end will come.**

**This chapter was betaed by the amazing, astounding and awe-inspiring Gabor and daemon Nax. Go check out their Story "Starpath" and the upcoming "Truly One". I helped on them, but it's mostly fueled by their wonderful minds.**

**And check up my own "Will and Lyra: Worlds Apart" for little snippets of Lyra and Will's lives before I took them and dumped them into So Near Yet So Far.**

**MR**


	25. Awakening from the Dream

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 24: Awakening from the Dream**

**Chapter Summary: It's like we've been in an illusion since we were born. Only now are we stepping from it, into reality.**

* * *

"So..."

"So..."

"Our lives...it was all for this moment?"

Lyra's voice was almost fearful, like a child's. She inwardly groaned at her weakness. The moment the responsibility had fallen on her, the moment she could have called herself an adult, she just _had_ to act like a child. Her voice constricted at her throat, and not totally because of the stifling air of the Darkness.

_Child, do not sound so cheated._

**You had a good life until now.**

"Good life?! It was never good! What about when we had to take on the crumbling Kingdom of Heaven, free the Dead, Sacrifice for the Worlds? Why isn't that good enough?"

Will's indignation earned him the feeling (remember, they could not hear, for there was no noise) of someone sighing.

_It is our __**duty**_**. **_You speak of it too. Of not shirking our duty. Do you not recall?_

**Your role is to help the Worlds. That is your duty.**

"That isn't duty! That's destiny! We never believed in destiny! We were meant to bring an end to it. So we make our own destinies."

_But that's what you have done. You have brought an end to your destiny by taking the reins yourself._

**Right now, you have two choices, to do what we told you, or to leave this place and pretend you never were part of a prophecy.**

"But...that's hardly a choice at all!"

Lyra's tears came out in a series of angry sobs. This wasn't what she had learned the aleithiometer for! She'd worked 20 years for the knowledge, it was going to waste just because of some long forgotten prophecy! What should she and Will care about some Music of the Worlds mumbo-jumbo?

_Child, you must remember that we can see your thoughts._

**Why are you so angry? Did you not have the feeling that this would happen? Child-**

"We are not children!"

Will's furious interruption silenced the two voices. For a moment, all Will could feel was Lyra's shivering hands. He held them all the tighter.

_In years, maybe not. In thinking, we are inclined to say you are._

**Indeed.**

Before Will or Lyra could protest, the two Fallen quickly continued.

_We are not saying we were unlike you._

**In fact, we were arguably worse.**

"You two...What did you have to do?"

_It is too hard to explain. But it was...scarring, to say the least._

**That's putting it lightly.**

_Indeed._

**But this isn't about us now. This is about you.**

_If you choose to accept what we have said and the duties as Parents of the Worlds, you will need to leave this place._

**Which is easier to do than you think.**

"Really? How?"

Will felt a hand, or something which seemed like a hand, grab at his belt and withdrew Zephyron from a buckle at his hip.

**This.**

There was a flash of light as the blinding blade of Zephyron revealed itself. In the process, Will's belt was sliced and fell next to him, hardly noticed.

The dazzling knife blazed with colours none of them could or would ever describe. Its dull appearance in the light simply contrasted its kaleidoscopic beauty in the Darkness.

Will stuttered out a question, while receiving Zephyron from the ghostly hand that was illuminated by its glow.

"How...do I wield it?"

_It handles itself like the Subtle Knife did._

**In fact, it was the predecessor of the Knife.**

He turned it over in his hand, in awe. Lyra moved slightly closer to him, her features painted with twin displays of joy and apprehension at the same time. She had seen good things happen for so long, she knew that there had to be a catch to it all. With every upturn in her life, it would bring about an almost immediate downturn.

Just like meeting Will again, she had just been told it was all because of some big guy called Fate or Destiny up there pulling the strings, so the Parents of the Worlds could be united to bring down another foe. She gulped slightly at the thought, her tears threatening to fall again. They would have to pay the hefty price for the Worlds' safety too... Something she really didn't want to think about now.

Her rasping voice, after hysteria and lack of hydration, seemed alien to her, as it rose out of her throat. At the same time, it filled with scorn and sarcasm.

"What's the catch?"

There was a semblance of a sigh.

_As we said, it is very much like the Knife._

**It will be ever sharp and a deadly foe to your enemies.**

_But unlike the Knife, this one can only be wielded by a certain person, a certain consciousness._

"Is that person Will?"

_Thankfully it is. But..._

"But _what, _this time_?" _Lyra was sick and tired of every good thing ending with a "but..." and then another twist for the worst.

**It can only be used once.**

Will's eyes widened in the glow of Zephyron.

"Once?"

_Yes. But it is not what you think._

**Zephyron can be wielded as a weapon infinite times. But its abilities as a Knife that cuts through Worlds...**

_Is thought to be inferior to that of the Subtle Knife, as the Subtle Knife was created for the purpose of rectifying this mistake._

"Does it create Specters?"

Memories of their last journey through the Worlds made them fearful at Zephyron's powers.

**Thankfully no.**

_Zephyron is made only as a tool. The Subtle Knife was made as a consciousness._

"A consciousness?" Lyra exclaimed. "That means..."

**The people who made the Knife were too eager to have it finished that they found the easiest way to make it. They crafted the Knife out of a section of the Transit World. And to imbue it with its innate intention of creating portals that never close...**

_They trapped a being inside it._

**An Angel, to be exact.**

"An angel? Who?" Lyra and Will's minds whirled to keep up with the influx of knowledge.

_No one really knows for sure._

**But it is safe to say that the Angel returned to the Heavens after you broke the Knife.**

"So the Knife was made of a piece of the Transit World?"

"That explains the hole that Xaphania showed us!"

"But what of Zephyron?"

_We were wondering when you'd ask us about it._

**Sit down again Children. And put Zephyron down next to you. Carefully, that's it.  
**

_This tale will be long._

_

* * *

_**A/N: This one was tough to write with NaNoWriMo going on. You're welcome to read my (terrible) NaNoWriMo piece. It's become a blog! Check it out on my profile page!**

**The Beta for this chapter was Gabor with his daemon Nax. Bless him, the poor guy...**

**That's all for now, but the next chapter will come very soon! I hope...**

**MR**


	26. Watching as Worlds Crumble

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 26: Watching as Worlds Crumble**

**Summary: When you're immortal like an Angel, what happens to humans shouldn't bother you. But there are times when you know, deep down inside, that we're all connected.**

**

* * *

  
**

Jeshu was long accustomed to silence. There was something calming, comforting even, in the lack of sound. Humans enjoyed, _relished_, in the grating, eardrum-bursting, noise that ruled their lives. But Angels were proud to say that they were nothing like their wingless compatriots. As much as they coveted the flesh and feeling that humans possessed, there were things they despised in the youthful ignorance of mortals.

As immortals who had, at least, a century of learning behind them, they'd learnt the fundamentals of life. Live the moment then _let it go_; funny how humans always seemed to disregard the second part. They loved to fool themselves that such temporary things, like love, friendship, _each other_, could last. A lifetime, maybe, but five? Ten? A hundred? Nothing meant anything after time corroded it with the acid of years and decades.

It was in this way that Kariel found him. Wings folded comfortably behind him, back perfectly straight, golden legs swung gracefully over the beams that, lashed together, formed the towering dome of the Clock tower in the Forgotten Kingdom. There was no explanation needed, no 'why's, no 'how's to his coming. It simply was that way. Hearing her come, with the soft wing beats tat raised her to his level, he turned slightly. Even when her nervousness was palpable in the air, he made no attempt to lift it. That was not his style, it never had been. Her eyes, still detestably blue, but darkening, like the sky before rain, betrayed her age. Angelic age, of course. Still young. Too young.

"Jeshu?"

He made a noncommittal noise of dubious acknowledgement.

"What did you see? When you reached out to Lyra and Will?"

She chose her words with care, but he knew what she really wanted to say. It was the same question everyone asked. Sure, holding the fragility of human consciousness together did allow the glimpse through their eyes, but there was nothing he felt at liberty to tell.

"Nothing."

He had tried his best to take the frustration out of his voice. But he had not been prepared for that flash of anger, tiny little pinpricks of fury that showed clearly in blue eyes. She landed with a less-than-silent thud, effectively snapping him out of his reverie. She leaned over and hissed.

"You don't tell me 'nothing'. Not like everyone else. They told me 'nobody' killed Zera, that she died because of 'nothing', that she died 'nowhere'. She was my best friend, and she was only 15. You think I'm an Angel for nothing? That I got these wings 'cause I'm lucky? You need to prove yourself to "the Guy up there". I gave my life to find who killed her. There was a someone, a something, a somewhere, with names and addresses and times. There's always more when you _look_ for more."

She stopped for a moment, eyes darkening with tears and softening with understanding.

"You must have seen something. Tell me, please."

He was uncomfortable with the close proximity, no one had ever, was ever allowed to infringe on his privacy. Yet it felt…good that someone knew how he felt, how strongly he felt, about friends. He felt, there was a little hesitation inside him, _willing_ to tell her. And so he did.

He told her off the things that he'd seen. Little ghosts with tendrils as hands, reaching, were grasping for the fallen Chosen ones. Their minds, as his own brushed theirs to get to Lyra and Will's, even more delicate and flimsy. And two stronger consciousness, that had purpose and had the ability to move and talk with Lyra and Will. He had known they would be safe with these two. So he had let them go, and receded back to his own body again, across worlds and dimensions.

She looked at him pointedly, glittering eyes giving him the impression that her attention was solely focused on him. Totally and completely on him. As she nodded slowly, when he had finished, he knew she'd understood him.

"So…they're safe."

He nodded.

"I believe so."

"And they are gaining knowledge as we speak."

"They are."

She smiled, one of those arrestingly beautiful ones that few humans would ever see. A smile of complete and utter satisfaction.

"Then we don't need to worry about them."

She turned away, her wings unfolding, like she was going to fly away. He started a sentence, then stopped, then started it again, after a deep breath.

"The pain never ends, does it?"

Even though he only saw her back, he knew she knew what he meant. She turned back to him and nodded, her face instantly betraying grief and painful memories. Then she shook her head, probably as confused as he was, gave him a short wave that seemed like an afterthought and took off, ducking into one of the many passages of the Forgotten Kingdom.

* * *

Lucifer was an inch (maybe half, it didn't really matter) from killing the next thing that moved. Something sneezed. Fuming inside, he took a deep breath to calm himself. Ever since they had entered and taken over this new world (some tiny insignificant thing that was vanquished in a matter of days), they had set up camp and got to work on the Deyanira Magic. As _Enoch _(it was getting harder by the day to call him that) had specified, they needed the world that was barren of humanity so nothing (important) would be lost in the devastating power of the Magic.

Yet this one world had whetted Lucifer's hunger for power and domination. He had crushed this one so effortlessly, the next would be just as simple. And the next, and the next. One world at a time, Lucifer needed to remind himself. There was no official deadline to finish the Deyanira Magic. But like most evil-let's-take-over-the-world villains, Lucifer was anxious to proceed.

Metatron, no, wait, _Enoch _would be close to laughing if he saw Lucifer's state now. The whole expanse of his territory was rife with all kinds of mayhem and Lucifer had no control over anything. It seemed that this war had gotten his minions hungry for war and violence too. But at the heart of the problem, another fight had broken out in the campsite. The warring factions of the Ogres and the Trolls had never fully made peace. Their races' friction with each other was legendary.

At the moment, it had been brought to his attention that they were having a blazing row which was rapidly accelerating to a violent climax. He sighed. He really did not have time for such things. He swept by his guards and left to see it for himself.

Like the Angel of Death that he was, his legions parted like the Red Sea for him. His black wings never once touched any other being as the multitude of crones, minotaur, gremlins and other gruesome, cowering creatures. He nodded to them dismissively, and smiled as they scattered and went back to their various chores. Control was always one of Lucifer's favourite things.

When he reached the heart of the argument, he realized that it had been worse than he'd expected. He thought that, at best, there'd be five or six troublemakers. Now it seemed like every troll and every ogre was participating. Each face was as ugly and hate-contorted as the next, and he could hardly tell one from the other.

Lucifer concluded that the fight was trivial and silly, just like the species that were involved. Food rations. No food was easy to come by in a war, and every piece was sought after by many and often, such things did happen. Lucifer suddenly regretted turning down the Dark Angels' offer of manpower and choosing the Monsters of the Night who were, unfortunately, constantly and ravenously hungry. But then again, Angels made even more trouble sometimes.

It was time to take matters into his own hands.

After a minute's observation, he quickly deduced the guilty party in question, who was, by no means, one of the more influential status. Apparently, some troll had stolen some ogre's rations (or was it the other way around) and had caused an uproar which quickly involved the two clans declaring war with the other. Shaking his head, Lucifer raised his hand coolly.

A mist of half-visible creatures descended quickly and efficiently upon the unlucky troll/ogre (Lucifer didn't and couldn't care to know who). Seconds later, they left behind a broken shell and flowed back to Lucifer's side. Warring ceased presently.

A silent, uniformed turn went through the crowd as it slowly shuffled around to see Lucifer's uncaring face. He was suddenly intensely irritated with their pathetic attempt to make him feel sorry for taking away the troll/ogre's consciousness.

"What are you looking at? Back to work."

He spoke in a low, almost-unheard voice, but there was a hint of metal that told them he would not tolerate misbehaviour. Every creature meekly scurried off and returned to what they had been doing.

As he turned away, he felt the hot eyes of _Enoch_ on his back. Lovely, he could goad him more. It had become a pleasing habit of his.

"It gets simpler every time."

"Have you no regard for life?" The attempt to guilt trip him was laughable;no one could hope to change Lucifer, and so, Lucifer laughed.

"He was disposable. As are you, dear Enoch."

And he only laughed even more when Metatron flew away, silenced. The time was near. He went back to work.

* * *

**A/N: Ack,no! This was overdue...for such a while. Sorry y'all. But the next chapter is part one of the finale. I get the chills thinking about it. And, for y'all to think about. You want me to continue this? Sequel?**

**MR**


	27. The Crescendo of Fear

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 27: The Crescendo of Fear**

**Summary: Everyone must face their growing fears, even when all they want to do is run. Run far, far away.**

**Brought to you by: MR and ShadowNx**

**Dedicated to: My newest reviewer VOILE and my good ol' Freakily obsessed Yassen fan and Lucky'sGirl. Luvya all!**

* * *

Will and Lyra drifted between unconsciousness and consciousness. It was like they had been up for days on end.

Listening to the Fallen had become much less like taking the reprimands of a parent, and more like listening to an enchanting piece of music. They wove a tale about ancient creatures, Parents of the World, events that echoed Lyra and Will's journeys. There were objects of power like the Knife, there were temptations of worldly, personal wants, there were worlds of beauty and danger looming. They were lulled into a strange and fantastic dimension where they knew roughly what they needed to do, but had no time limit to do it within.

But in such cases, as in many of the parallel lives that were happening at that moment, rude awakenings were in order. The Darkness moved, as if it were a gargantuan black mass that had a mind of its own. And maybe it was. The movement shook everything, and the oily blackness of the place squeezed further in around our two heroes and their mentors.

Lyra and Will clung together. They would not be separated. Not again. And their apprehension, fear and anxiety over what they needed to do clung to them terribly like a blanket refusing to come off. They flung out their consciousness to Dame Hannah and Professor Souris.

"Hannah! Professor! What's happening?"

_Do not worry children._

**The schedule has simply been moved forward slightly.**

"We're not ready! You say so yourself! We're children. We don't know!" Their frantic cries seem to echo through the dark, even though it was only in their minds.

_You make the choice. You can prepare yourself, or go in there without plan or strategy._

**Just remember...the time will always come.**

_And you can run, but you'll never hide from your duties._

"It's too much! Too soon..." They realized soon after these exclamations left their mouths that the excuse was hardly one at all. There was a moment that felt like they were in the middle of a swirling tornado, a thunderous storm. Then it passed as the calmness of reason descended. They were what they were, practically born into their roles. A feeling of utmost serenity settled over them and their struggle against their duty ceased.

**Go. Go now.**

They did not resist the instructions.

Zephyron was shining more than ever, the iridescent colors dancing wildly although there was no light to reflect in such shades. It glowed like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging sea of swirling black.

Holding it, grasping it, for almost the first time, Will felt the little tingle of joy as hand and weapon rejoined. Closing his eyes, mind and soul dancing across the blade, he was intent on finding that little nook, the little rift in the air that spoke of another world, another dimension, another place. He only had one cut, he needed to find the world, _that_ world, the world of the Forgottens.

He was so scared that he would choose the wrong place, the wrong cranny to cut through. Only _one_ cut. His heart was beating so fast, his whole mind shook with the pumping. He felt a cold drop of sweat trace his temple down.

"Will..."

He snapped out of his frenetic state. Lyra's hands grasped his free one (he could almost see her smile), providing the quiet comfort that the thirteen-year-old Lyra never had. He knew she loved him, the assuredness of that love encompassed him, and he found the strength to look again.

_Kirjava, Pan, we're coming._

* * *

Pantalaimon and Kirjava sat, waiting. It was a strange feeling, one where you knew what was going to happen, but you didn't know when it would. It was in this way that they knew their humans, Will and Lyra, would come back, would not forsake them. Sitting with Geneva, her moonstone gaze heavy on them, they felt comfortable, serene even, which was abnormal for a being in a place on the brink of war.

The closest to what they were feeling...was the feeling of home. They didn't know why they had been so quickly accustomed to the somewhat musty air underground, the earthy smells, the humid warmth that made their fur glisten with perspiration. Even Geneva's gaze, however otherworldly, felt as if they had felt it before.

At first, they credited it to the haze of love and affection overflowing after 20 years of separation. That they didn't realise the difference in surrounding because they were too busy with each other. But now that they thought about it, it was like...they'd been here before.

"Geneva?" Kirjava's voice rose tentatively.

The ethereal fox tilted her face to them and bestowed an unearthly smile.

"You have a question?" Her soft, abrupt style of talking forced Kirjava and Pan to get straight to the point.

"Do you, I mean, do we seem familiar to you?" Pan stuttered out, bravado washed away by the depths of the white irises.

"What do you mean?" Now Geneva cocked her head to one side, curious, eyebrows knitting together.

"We feel like we've been here before...the slightest feeling. Do you know if we did? We wandered so far. Did we ever come here? I mean, the angels were the ones who showed us here, but maybe, maybe, were we here too?"

Geneva's brow relaxed. "You mean you feel that you've come here before, perhaps, you know this place far better than you expected?"

Pan and Kirjava's worry that she might not understand dissipated immediately.

"Well...yes."

"There was talk, about...300 years ago, that two weary travelers of a sort came upon this place, through an _chungkou_. Windows, in your language."

"300 years ago?"

Geneva's eyes ghosted over with such sadness that Pan wished he'd never opened his mouth in the first place.

"When most travelers arrive back in their homes after coming into our world, there is no time lapse. Why do you think we are Forgottens?"

* * *

Kariel sat quietly, on the eve (or so she thought) of the biggest war she'd ever experienced. She was young by the angels' standards, hardly past her first millennia, yet she had been forced to retain memories from eons before her time. Angels never truly died; their precious experience was passed down. As more died, the remaining were thrust with a bigger load. The Angels withstood the tests of time, but now there were only two. Pitiful, really.

She examined a memory that she knew, for herself and by herself, was hers to begin with. It was all she remembered from her mortal life.

_The Kraken sank, like all mythical monsters did, into the waves, never to rise again. Its lack-lustre scales sparkled dimly as the sea claimed it for its own._

"_You know it was just luck, Kari."_

_Her memory-self nodded slowly, half in a daze. She turned to stare at the bloody dagger that had wrought the beast's death. Reality slowly returned to her and she found she could speak once again. _

"_Well I guess the world's been saved again by a hair. All in a day's work, yes?"_

_A light chuckle._

"_Of course."_

The warmth of a forgotten friendship washed over her. Her mouth turned upwards involuntarily. Zera was...her only friend. She was always the outcast, with interests a bit too far-fetched, a bit too foolish.

Would Zera know how scared she was now? That the days when it had been her, _her_ being the Chosen Ones, one half of the Parents of the World, they were past. Now she was bringing beings she didn't even know of, monsters that were allies, to battle against Heaven's biggest foes. What wasn't to fear?

There was the softest, yet the loudest in such a silent place, plop as Jeshu landed near her.

"We need to go. Geneva is calling every being in the land to the Main Square."

She shook her head to get rid of her black thoughts. They wouldn't lose this. They _couldn't_ lose this. She rose and braced herself for flight.

"Of course."

* * *

**A/N: Overdue, I know. Mother took my computer for the fifth time. Not so cool, eh? She's evil like that. She thinks that I'm stupid to try writing even, clearly thinks I can't write for nuts. Which I can't. So nevermind.**

**The Finale will have three parts. Or four. Just go with the flow I guess.**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging, only wishing)**


	28. The Rise of Evil

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 28: The Rise of Evil**

**Summary: Lucifer knows how humans work and he knows how to use it against them. **

**By: Moiranne Rose**

**Thankfully Beta-ed by: ShadowNx**

**Dedicated to: You. All of you readers/reviewers. I love you. This chapter is for you guys.**

* * *

_They are weak. Because Lyra and Will are young and inexperienced however you look at it. Because Geneva and her warriors are ruthlessly efficient and won't back down. Because Kariel and Jeshu can't see eye to eye. Because Metatron will kill hundreds to save himself._

_And because they're all scared, one way or another._

Will's hand shivered slightly, his concentration wavering with it. The knife caught for a second, hauntingly reminiscent of the last time his focus was lost in such a time. That time had ended in his Knife in shatters and Lyra and himself stranded in an unfamiliar world. The slight mistake sent his heart racing as he cursed his lack of confidence.

He needed to be strong. Lyra was depending on him, Kirjava and Pan were waiting, Geneva needed him, even Jeshu and Kariel wanted him at the forefront of their conquest. Why couldn't he be strong for them?

He shakily finished the cuts, his hand trembling more and more with each one, as if each was a marathon he had to finish. He was out of practice, the wobbly window, pulsing ever so slightly, testimony to it. Bright, bright, _bright _light hit them. He was momentarily blinded.

Yet, even without looking, he knew he got it right.

When he recovered, he met Lyra's eyes, shiny with tears borne of fear and anxiety, yet so sure. He took courage in her belief in him. He squeezed her hand in his and smiled in a way he hoped assuring. She returned the smile, beautifully as she always did, the smile he wished to see every day of his life. Feeling heartened, he took a step in the Darkness, then another one, and, with a deep breath, he stepped through.

* * *

_Will is weak because he can't hold out much longer._

_

* * *

_Lyra was tugged forcefully through the window. And then she was tugged back. It was like a tug-of-war, one side pulling just as hard as the other side, tossing her around in a pull of nothingness. She closed her eyes to the Darkness that surrounds her and focused on Will's hand wrapped so firmly around hers. He would bring her to safety.

Zephyron had cut cleanly through the still air, although with each cut, the vibrancy of the colours faded more and more. It was clear that it would have no more magic in it for another.

_Would it be correct? Would they be trapped in another world? Would they never see Pan and Kirjava again? Would-_

She cut herself off right there. She couldn't lose faith in Will. Will was everything to her. The least she could do was trust him to bring her home.

* * *

_Lyra is weak because she finds it hard to trust people._

_

* * *

_Geneva paced the floor of the courtroom, her mind whirling with battle plans. Just before this, she'd been in a meeting with her Chiefs of each battalion. They were sure what they'd be doing, where they'd fight from, when they'd appear, when they'd fall back and recuperate, a flawless system not unlike a giant clock. That clock was now ticking down the seconds that separated them for their first full-out fight for centuries.

She sat down on her throne, not even feeling the softness of the fur or the firm wood backing. She only felt the immense chill that settled over her like fog. Clingy fog. Fog that just wouldn't let up.

She only vaguely saw Pantalaimon and Kirjava peep in from the corridor into the vast, almost empty room. Did they see the cogs in her head moving-moving-moving so very, very fast? She feared they would. She needed to be strong. She was the leader. They couldn't see her like this, like a wreck.

All of a sudden, there was something right then, some huge lock that just unlocked itself, a window wiped clean of obscuring dirt. She saw her decision in front of her.

"Pantalaimon? Kirjava?" She was glad for the strength, even if it was only in her voice.

They started and looked at her.

"Tell the Generals to prepare themselves."

She paused for added effect, and to swallow her fears all the way back down.

"If it's a war Lucifer wants, it's a war he'll get."

* * *

_Geneva and her army are weak, because they won't give up and will ultimately burn themselves out._

_

* * *

_"It's not like that!"

Kariel's eyes burned fires in their swiftly darkening depths. How _dare_ he say she was young? She wasn't!

"Your temper more than shows it. Angels were always meant to be calm, collected-"

"And you say I'm not _fit_ to be one? Not really _angel _quality_, _am I?" She spat out the word like poison.

Jeshu's eyes immediately betrayed irritation.

"I never said that. I merely-"

"Then what? What are you going to say now?"

Kariel's eyes were threatening to spill over with tears. She was so _tired_ of people telling her that she was too stupid to know what an angel was, too silly and young to _be _an angel. She didn't know which divine intervening power it was that kept her where she was, winged and afloat, but she had faith that whoever it was didn't just pick her off some list. There had to be a _reason_.

"I – I – I don't know."

"You don't?" She was quick to pounce on the words.

"You confuse me."

She was, in those three words, utterly undone.

"Wha – what?"

"You do. Your passion is alien to me. Everything about you is...muddling, disconcerting. You..." He cast around for another adjective. Finding none, he concluded, "You confuse me." He stared at his hands, as if they'd tell him the answer.

"I do?" She was wary. Was this some ploy to get under her guard? She looked right into his eyes, cold and black. She sensed a helplessness that she couldn't place at all.

"You do."

The conversation was over, but the companionship was comforting for both. Kariel sat next to Jeshu awkwardly, spending the rest of their waiting time looking for something else to talk about.

The soft patter-patter of feet of runners and messengers reached their ears, at the same time the mighty thunder-beats of war-drums hit them. They got up and, instinctively, grabbed each other's hands, only two words pulsing around them, through them.

_It's time._

_

* * *

  
_

_Jeshu and Kariel, the last two angels, are weak, because they won't ever be on the same page, or fighting for the same thing._

_

* * *

_

Metatron heard the rings of gongs and the cries of "To me! To me!" from his tent next to Lucifer's. He roused himself from weariness and pain to look outside.

The campsite was in a state of havoc. Minions flew, ran, jumped, looking for forgotten shields, a lost mace, a misplaced sword. Everything was in utter pandemonium.

The sounds were what really got him. The screams and yells that mixed into a horrid cacophony, the screech of sharpening swords, the clanging of the forgers creating new weapons and armour. The symphony of broken melodies penetrated deep into his ears and left him speechless and overwhelmed.

"Enoch."

The soft voice stood out from all the rest. Metatron turned slightly to address his enemy and his, grudgingly accepted, new Lord.

"Lucifer."

"Shaken, are you, Enoch?"

He shook his head, even though he contradicted himself with a flinch as a bird-like creature shrieked overhead.

"Enoch. Get used to this."

The whisper was quiet, but the meaning was clear.

"This is the sound of war."

* * *

_Metatron is weak because as mighty as he is, he will still cut down defenseless midgets alone than take on an army with one behind him, because he's a coward and that's what cowards do._

_

* * *

_The first thing Will felt was just a single word. _Wrong_. And then again, _Wrong. _And then, _wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong. _It was like someone touched his daemon, like Professor Souris did the first time Will showed Kirjava to him, it was as wrong as that. It was like every world refused to let him pass, but he had to, he had to, so he pushed on, through the _wrong_ness and the resistant, unseen barriers, making a way through them for Lyra. He then half-dragged, half-helped Lyra in.

He suddenly had a light-headed feeling, as if he was floating around in midair and hadn't found a way down yet. He was losing grip on himself, like he was apart from his body all of a sudden.

As if in a dream, he felt Lyra's hand, faintly, faintly, press down on his. It spoke volumes. _Will. Will. Stay strong. I need you._ And that was enough.

Each step was like a mile, and he didn't know how many more he needed to take. He held onto Lyra's hand like a safety line and he kept walking even though weariness tried to chain him to a spot. He kept walking, because there was a goal, because he had faith and Lyra, and because it was his duty to be strong.

* * *

_Will and Lyra are weak, because they're in love. Hurt one, you'll hurt both._

_

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry this took such a while! I've been so very busy because school is kicking my butt hard. Just managed to squeeze enough time to get this out.**

**Hope you liked it!**

**Love and Cookies,**

**MR**


	29. Clash of the Titans

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 28: Clash of the Titans **

**(A/N: You have no idea HOW LONG I wanted to type those words.)**

**Summary: Two forces, one victor. A battle of the worlds and no one seems to notice.**

**By: Moiranne Rose**

**Thankfully Beta-ed by: ShadowNx**

**Dedicated to: Tay Min. Because one day, I'll find out who she is on .**

* * *

Janis looked up from her table, meeting eyes with her Special Powers Class Teacher Aaron. He was a good teacher, if a bit boring at times. One such time was the presence. She tuned out his droning voice (something about mutual trust between Power Partners, that they needed to be cooperative yaddayaddayadda. Whatever.) and cast around the room for something more interesting to look at.

She settled on the window next to her. The sky wasn't particularly blue nor was it particularly overcast. A few pathetic off-white clouds above trees rapidly shedding leaves by the dozens, the otherwise quiet morning session interrupted by periodic honking and hollering from the street a floor below. Just like a regular Monday.

Clouds. Some days, they were lumpy and looked about to fall from the sky with their heavy gray weights, like the porridge sometimes served at school lunches. Some days, they were merely wisps, like mist that hadn't faded away. Some days, they were black, black like the chalkboard Aaron was drawing meaningless diagrams on, swirling maliciously. Some days, they weren't even there.

Today, she concluded, the clouds were...soft. Soft like fluffy marshmallows, though not as solid, soft like cotton wool, though not as dusty, they possessed the quality of being there, yet being translucent enough to show some part of the blue expanse of the sky.

_What a wonderful day. If only school could just come to halt!_ She thought rebelliously, frown tugging at her lips.

Suddenly, as effectively as a slap to wake her from her reverie, an ironic flash of lightning came forth from the pitifully small clouds. Everyone in class, even Aaron, looked to the window in shock.

"The weather these days...It's as bipolar as a woman!" Aaron observed. The class laughed half-heartedly at his wisecrack and returned their attention to him. Janis just rolled her eyes and stubbornly continued to stare out of the window. The clouds swirled together liked they were being stirred with a giant spoon, constantly darkening as rain began to fall.

It happened so fast she could have convinced herself that she was dreaming.

She saw, in one cloud in the foreground, as it crumpled and tangled itself and whirled, it brought forth a face within it. Most of her childhood was spent looking for such in the clouds above, but an image had never been so clear and defined as this was. The face was not human, more resembling a fox, but it had such a human expression of rage, fear and pity that she was inclined to believe that it was not an ordinary animal. The features were feminine enough for her to conclude that the creature was female. The eyes blinked once, twice, staring right at her without any questioning looks, as if the fox-woman-animal-_thing_ had always known her.

She blinked back, once, hard. And the image was gone.

_I must be seeing things._ She concluded as she shakily look back down at her notes. She couldn't concentrate for the rest of the lesson and passed it off as fatigue.

* * *

Battles in most dramas were made out to be epic battles with slow-motion computer graphics, blood, carnage and poetic, no-sound dying scenes. The actual thing was dirtier, grimier and far, _far_ more real. There was blood, but it wasn't just red like rubies and roses, wasn't just coloured liquid spattering the ground in a sporadic manner. The blood ran from wounds (of both dead and still alive) and gathered dust as it flowed out. The carnage was gory, blackened bodies (from fireballs casted by both the spell weavers of the Forgottens and reciprocated by the witches and hags of Lucifer), corpses with spears, swords and other weapons stabbed fatally through them, the fallen missing limbs and faces painted with stark whiteness of shock and death.

The plains shook with the savage war-cries and trembled with the beats of feet, paw and hoof.

"Where's General Haylen?" Geneva shouted to whoever could hear, over the din of the battle. Her cry went unheard by all but a flag-bearer. The flag was splattered with evidence of a fight, and, from the look of it, the original bearer had fallen in the hands of the enemy.

"Yes Madam?"

Taking a deep shaky breath and trying to ignore the sharp pain that flared every time she moved her left leg, her voice rasped as it tried to get past the dryness of her throat.

"General Haylen. Where is she?"

The flag-bearer's face betrayed the dismal truth.

"Well...Madam...uhh...she...they...Lucifer..." He stumbled over his words. She turned away quickly, heaving a deep, rattling breath that struggled through her bruised chest. She looked up at the unforgivable sky, the sunset bleeding colours from the horizon and liberally splashing reds and purples and oranges all over the blue. Was Haylen up there? She wondered.

Turning back to the situation at hand, she almost didn't want to look. Geneva gulped and tried not to count the rest of casualties they had suffered.

* * *

Lyra and Will were walking. It was like a dark tunnel, with no other way but forwards.

"Is that a light?"

"A trick of the dark I think. I can't see it."

They kept walking.

* * *

Lucifer smiled. A huge grin that stretched from ear to ear giving him a strange jack-o-lantern look that was not particularly flattering. The army before him fell like dominoes as his opponent's dogged perseverance was turned, brutally, against them. They didn't know when to give up, and Lucifer sure as hell wasn't going to tell them to. They were like the biggest, fattest candle, but even that much wax can be used up, and the flame would slowly, but surely, die.

The sound of thunderous footsteps grew nearer. And nearer. And nearer. So close that the tent almost collapsed by the might of them.

"Sir." The hulk of the Minotaur-General reared up and saluted him with one huge arm.

"At ease. What is the news from the front?"

"Sir, the enemies are falling like dominoes."

"Anything else to add?" Lucifer's skill at reading expressions were unmatched. The slight upturned, sausage-like lips of the monstrous figure spoke volumes of the Minotaur's confidence.

"I do not want to appear complacent, but I do believe that in the next hour or so, the enemy will fall and they will submit to your rule."

* * *

Lucifer smirked.

"That is very good to know. You are dismissed General."

"As you please, Sir." The minotaur saluted him and bounded off back into the flurry of swords, claws and destruction.

_Now_, Lucifer mused,_ not even those blasted "Parents of the World", those _children_, can save them. _

"Enoch!"

Metatron wearily appeared at the tent flaps and leaned in.

"Yes, Lucifer."

"It is time to perform your assigned task, to prove your usefulness to my cause. I expect you will take this opportunity with eager hands?"

Metatron let out a barely perceptible sigh.

"Yes, Lucifer."

* * *

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Will we get out of here alive?"

"Shush. Don't think that! We'll be out of here in no time."

"Okay Will."

They lapsed into silence.

"Hey, Lyra?"

"Yes?"

"I swear that's a light over there. It's getting bigger."

"Where?"

He lifted her finger to point, but then realised she wouldn't be able to see it in the gloom.

"Straight ahead. About the size of a coin."

"Why can't I-"

"Just keep walking forward, it's right _there_."

"Okay Will." Her grip on his hand grew tighter as they continued down the unmarked path to their destination.

* * *

Pantalaimon woke from his half-sleep, eyes snapping open and a smile slowly growing on his face.

"Kirjava?"

The sleeping cat-daemon next to him opened an eye.

"What Pan? You just woke me from the nicest dream..."

"Was it about Will?"

"Well...yes. About him coming back and seeing some light somewhere."

"That's like my dream! Except mine was about Lyra..."

"D'you think it's true? Like they're coming back now?" Kirjava's voice rose from her initial sleepy tones to the stronger, hopeful one now.

Pantalaimon grinned, a funny expression found on a pine marten's face.

"I think it might just be so."

* * *

**A/N: Finally done!**

**It's been such a wait, I know. I've really been very busy with school and I know most of you want my head now because this is so overdue! In my next escapade in this fandom, I'll try and get the chapters done before I start posting them up. That way, I think I'll get these to you guys faster.**

**Love and Cookies,**

**MR**


	30. The Pilgrims' Test

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 30: The Pilgrims' Test**

**Chapter Summary: There will come a time when your intentions are questioned and your questions are answered.**

**Thankfully Beta-ed By: ShadowNx**

* * *

The gloom began to lighten, and the depression the two had sunk into began to disappear like a long fog finally lifting.

"Will?"

He turned to the general direction of her voice.

"Yes?"

"Is that it?"

Her faintly visible finger pointed to a pinpoint of pure, utterly blinding light. His throat suddenly felt dry and he was overwhelmed by the sudden influx of hope that he, _they_ could do it. That home was just over _there_.

"I...I think so."

"Okay."

He could almost see her joyful smile mirroring his own.

_Almost there._

Each step took them closer, closer, until they were confronted by a door, or, at least, something that resembled a door greatly. It was angular and flat, though without panes or any way of seeing through to the other side. There was no wall around it, just more blackness surrounding it, only faintly illuminated by the light that seemed to come from the door itself. Yet it was clear that the door was to their destination. Straining their ears, they were almost sure they could hear Pan and Kirjava welcoming them. There was a gleaming doorknob of something like marble, seemingly smooth and cool to the touch. Will leaned forward eagerly and grasped it.

He let out a yelp that echoed all around him, his hand immediately flying off the scalding knob. His hand, under the light, was red with angry welts.

_Who goes there?_

The two pilgrims jumped at the sound of the sonorous, there-but-not-there voice. Will's unwounded hand instinctively went to the hilt of Zephyron. Lyra summoned the courage to reply.

"Travelers. And who are you?"

_I go by many names. The Keeper of the Balance, the One who walks through Walls, the Teller of Truth, the Wielder of Justice, _one could almost perceive a shrug, _just to name a few. You too are known by many names. Parents of the World or, more specifically, Will Parry and Lyra Silvertongue, formerly Lyra Belacqua._

The being's immense knowledge shocked them both a second time.

"How...how do you know of us?"

_You are known throughout the universes. Your burdens are well-known by those who fight for and against you. You both wield great power, of which you supposedly worthy._

"Are you a Parent as well?" Will asked, cautiously.

_Me? No, no. Were you not listening? I'm...a higher power._

"Higher power, eh? Like what? An angel?"

_In many cultures, I'm known by many names, but, I think, you know me as Michael._

There was a moment of shock that passed quickly.

"You mean all this time we've been talking to an Archangel? I th-"

_No longer. I was pulled from my position of Archangel a long time ago._

"What happened?"

_The Knife._

"The Subtle Knife?"

_Yes._

"I don't unde-"

"The Angel! The Angel that was trapped inside the Knife! _You _remember Will," Lyra exclaimed. "You mean you-"

_Yes. It was the longest three hundred years of my life, ensnared by human means, used as a __**tool **__for hundreds of years until-_

"Until I broke the Knife."

_Yes. I am eternally indebted to you because of that._

There was silence as Will and Lyra turned this idea over and over in their head. Lyra was delighted at this, at knowing that there was another ally in the fight against Lucifer. Will wasn't as sure.

"How am I supposed to believe that?" Doubt took centrestage in Will's mind. "What if this is all just happening in my head? What if you're one of Lucifer's minions?"

"Will. Don't argue with him about which side he's on."

"But he-"

"I think he's a good person."

"How do you know? Does your alei-"

"I take it on faith," Lyra cut coolly across his outburst. "I've always been good with people."

Her head turned purposefully to face the door.

"Can we go through the door?"

_Finally, you are asking the right questions. We have wasted enough time arguing about who's on whose side._

"So can we?" Will said impatiently, his temper flaring.

_As I have said before, I am the Keeper of the Balance, the Balance of Darkness and Light, of Beyond the Door and Inside the Door. I have not yet decided whether you should be allowed to go through._

"What do you mean? With all your _knowledge_," Will almost sneered the word. "You don't know that we're hardpressed to get to our destination? That people are _dying_ while we sit here and get to know each other better?"

"Will-" Lyra tried weakly, only to have Will cut her sentence short.

"Lyra, this – this _thing_ can't seem to _comprehend_ what trouble the Forgottens are in, how the battle that we _knew _was going to be fought has probably already started and we're not there to help. He's an _Angel_, he wasn't even human before! He can't understand the mortality of this all_. _That every single second we waste, there are people, animals, there is _life, _that is dying._"_

Turning around, trying to face the Angel even though he had no solid form, Will's shoulders shook, his cold demeanor breaking. This Angel, as intelligent as he was, couldn't _possibly_ understand what it felt to know people, to _love_ people, and the fear that grabbed at your heart and held it with icy fingers every single moment you weren't sure what was happening to them. Whether they were alive, whether they were dead, that uncertainty had been biting at the back of his head for a long time. Now it had come to the forefront.

_It is not that I wish to delay you._ The Angel seemed affronted at the sudden outburst._ It is merely so that I can ascertain that you know what you need to do, and that your intentions are true._

Will looked away, or what he thought was away, from the voice. There was another pregnant pause.

Lyra's eyes suddenly lit up. Finally, something she could help with! "Do you need us to pass a test with questions or something?" Her hand dug into her pocket for the familiar weight of the gold aleithiometer.

_You only need to answer one question. But the answer won't come from that earthly truth-telling device. It must come from your heart._

Lyra's hand released the aleithiometer from her hold of it within her pocket, embarrassed. The voice seemed to be berating her for thinking she had the wisdom to surpass it, whether in riddles or worldly answers. Then how was she to know the answers? Will's hand was immediately on her shoulder, as if sensing her fear. Taking heart in his strength and support, she bit her lip and looked up again.

Will met Lyra's eyes for a moment. They were now alive with fear, but there was also something else he never had seen before. Something like determination, something like an alien force that was pushing her to accept and reply to the question.

He would come to know of it as duty, as responsibility, as some kind of care that did not befit Lyra's young age (no matter how old she thought herself to be), for she was still, one of the youngest Mother of the World. He felt the vibes of the "fire person" she was and it somehow affected him as well, as if a huge balloon had begun to inflate within his chest, making it suddenly hard to speak yet urging him to say something as well.

"Ask the question."

Lyra whirled around at that point, her hair reflecting dull bits of the light from the door. His reply, instead of hers, must have surprised her as much as it did him. The angel chose to ignore this and pressed on with his question.

_What are your intentions?_

At this, Will had a faint flashback to the time when Iorek had reforged the Subtle Knife.

"_Sometimes a tool may have other uses that you don't know. Sometimes in doing what you intend you also do what the knife intends, without knowing."_

Were they, as Parents of the World, tools as well? Conscious, living tools, but tools nonetheless? Will's head began to hurt. Intentions? Were their intentions their own even? Or were they someone else's? He shook his head to clear it, and started over.

They were Parents of the World, so rightfully, their intention was to save the World from mortal peril and the like. There, that sounded right. Yet...something tugged at him, that wasn't all. What was he, as William Parry, aiming to accomplish? Surely it wasn't just for a medal or an accolade. Then, through his mind, flashed images of people.

_His mother._

_Kirjava and Pantalaimon._

_Kariel and Jeshu._

_Geneva and her people._

_**Lyra**_**.**

He was doing this for them, to protect them and their worlds, and the billions of worlds that would never know his or Lyra's names. Yet it was also for himself. He wanted to be able to hold his head high, even if the world didn't know why, to live with himself and know that he hadn't shied away from his responsibilities. His _duty_. He had never understood that word more than at that moment.

As he looked up, eager to whisper to Lyra his new revelation, her face was already shining with ecstatic understanding. Did she know it too? He believed she did.

_Your answer?_

"Ladies first," Will quipped.

Lyra hesitated for a moment, her fist clenching and unclenching nervously.

"I – I want to make sure that all the people I love, no, _everyone, _every adult, every child, in _every_ world, has a chance to live in a safe world, where they are allowed to think however they like, do whatever they want, and not be lorded over by Lucifer or any other master. That they have a right to choose the life they want to lead, and then be able to _lead _it."

_And how will going through the door help that?_

"It – It will give me a chance to make them have that future."

_A chance? Only a chance?_

Here, Lyra faltered. He was right. There _was_ only a chance. She cast around for something that would convince him of the opposite, but even she was no longer sure of herself.

"Even if there's only a chance," Will shocked her by saying. "even if there's only the slightest, tiniest chance that it will happen, it's enough. Because we have a goal, and as long as there's a chance of achieving it, we'll do anything in our power to try and make it so."

Will's heart thumped painfully in his ribs, both due to apprehension as well as a feeling within him that filled with renewed courage. Hope. He tried the word on his tongue. Yes, he decided, it was hope.

The moment of deliberation passed quickly.

_Your intentions are noble, noble enough. They will do. Make sure you follow them through._

Will felt like relief wash over him and next to him, Lyra's worried face turned into one saturated with joy and gratitude. Yet Will knew that wasn't be all. It _couldn't _be all. Like with all good things, there had to be a catch.

"Is that all?"

_Well, _the Angel's voice adopted a more casual tone. _The Transit World has a tollbooth, just like any train station in any world, and that tollbooth is manned by none other than myself._ _Usually, I demand something as toll for passing through. Going through to another world always demands something of the traveler, excepting those who travel by means of dreaming._

Will could feel his heart sinking like lead in water.

_But, because you set me free from the Knife so --_

"So?" Lyra's voice rose with anticipation.

_So I will let you off this once._

Will almost couldn't believe his ears.

"Really? As in you'd --" He was suddenly ashamed of his earlier outburst.

_Neither thanks nor apologies are required. You may repay me by bringing down our foe._

There was a pause and the two lovers seemed to sense that Michael was smiling.

_The Creator made a good choice._

There was a "whoosh" and a sudden vacuum of warmth from the place and Lyra and Will both knew that the Angel had left their presence. To their left, they heard a muted click. The door that had been shut to them was now open. Lyra's eyes reflected the light and shone with an uncanny brilliance as she pressed tentative fingers to the door, pushing it carefully open.

They could only watch as it swung open obediently to reveal a more vivid sight of utter and total chaos than she or Will had ever laid eyes on.

* * *

**A/N: Oooh. Cliffhanger alert!**

**This is the third-to-last chapter, effectively, of this story, as long as it doesn't get any longer! I'll be editing the front parts too so I'll know which loose ends I have to tie up. **

**The last two chapters and an epilogue will follow soon. Enjoy and thanks so much for following this story so far!**

**Love and Cookies,**

**MR**


	31. Seeking Help from the Helpless

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 31: Seeking Help from the Helpless  
**

**Chapter Summary: When everything's warring around you, it's hard not to want to do something as well.**

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* * *

**

"Pan, I want to _do_ something!"

The impatience that she shared Will flared up as Kirjava paced about the room they were in. Five storeys above the battle, they had an ample view of the entire expanse, but they couldn't lift a finger to help. The two armies had been waging war since sunrise, and there was no sign whatsoever of them ending any time soon. Geneva had made the two daemons vow not to leave the room and join the battle, lest they fall under the enemy's sword and their humans die with them. And though her concern was appreciated and very much warrented by the value of the lives of the Chosen Ones, five hours stuck in a secluded upper room had made them restless to help in whatever ways they could.

"I know Kir, but we can't. You know that if we die --"

"Yeah, I know all that. But it's horrible, _horrible_, just sitting here and waiting for news and not knowing who's still alive and whether Will and Lyra are safe and coming back! We're daemons, yes, but we have the _right_ to know these things!" Kirjava's anguished voice rose with each word.

"Hush," Pan whispered soothingly, wrapping his red-gold body around Kirjava's. "I'm sure we can help in some way or another."

Kirjava was quick to reply.

"But there's nothing we can do, Pan! We're daemons, without powers like the Forgottens, or wings like Kariel and Jeshu and there's no way, _no way_ we can make any difference." The black wildcat was close to hysterics.

"Shh..." He stroked her black fur with one of his paws. "I'm sure there's something we can do. Something we can do to make up for Will and Lyra not being here!"

"Can you still sense them?"

"Kinda. But it's really faint. I think we'll only feel it if something happened to them that triggered a huge reaction."

"Like if they were dead?" Kirjava deadpanned.

Pantalaimon cut in quickly. "No, silly, like if they were really happy or something. We wouldn't be here if they were dead."

That was the only comfort in their period of separation. To know that their humans were safe and alive because they were still touching the softness of a bed, the coldness of the morning breeze and each other. Because they hadn't evaporated into the air yet.

"Pan!"

Kirjava's exclamation pulled him from his reverie.

"What?"

"Remember what Lyra said?" The black daemon's eyes flashed dangerously, eagerly. "Remember about the thing about swaying Metatron to our side?"

"You mean you want to --" Dozens of protests were on his tongue in an instant.

"It's worth a shot."

"But how will we get to him?"

Kirjava smiled.

"By Angel."

* * *

Kariel had been relegated to make sure the two devious daemons didn't get out of their holding room. They were close to being prisoners actually, and so was she. She was feeling restless and had to fight down the urge to fly down into the fray and _help_ out for once. She'd always felt helpless and foolish next to her counterparts, whether as an Angel or as a Parent. It seemed like she was always one step behind everyone else.

"Kariel?"

Pan's slight voice, raised no higher than a whisper, shook her from her thoughts. Her eyes widened as she noticed the two daemons had a set look about their faces, as if they had made a great decision while inside the room.

"What are you doing? Get back inside! Geneva will have my head if you--"

"Kariel, we need to _do_ something! It's _terrible_ just sitting there not doing _anything_ because we're too small, too stupid or too slow to do anything else! Please listen," Kirjava begged.

"Well, okay. But make it quick, and don't think I'll be swayed if you try any sop story on me."

Kirjava and Pan shared a quick glance, a thousand emotions in that split-second passed between them. Pan sighed and related to the Angel their plan-which-was-not-a-plan.

"Get Metatron to come to our side? You have _got _to be joking."

"We're not," Kirjava deadpanned.

The Angel's form shimmered for a moment, blurring the lines of her ethereal body and the wall behind her. The two daemons realised, to their indignation, that the momentary spasms Kariel was going through was her version of a laugh.

"We're not fooling around, Kariel! This is serious!"

The Angel eyed them for a moment, gossamer wings batting once, twice.

"You want me, possibly the lowest of any and all Angels still alive, to fly you to meet the broken soul of an Angel who is supposed to be _dead_ and, as a matter of fact, the one being that nearly destroyed every world."

Kirjava and Pan cringed. They'd wished she wouldn't say it like that. It already seemed hopeless in their mind; her reiterating it just made it worse. The Angel saw their imploring faces and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh that seemed even too old for her.

"Why do you want to do this?"

"Because we have to," Kirjava managed, with less conviction than she'd wanted.

"Who said so?"

There was another pregnant pause as the two daemons confronted this idea. They _could_ change their minds, _could_ say this was a bad idea, _could_ just back away and stay in their room and be _safe_. This new concept was alien to them, but the more they thought about it, the more attractive the prospect began. Pantalaimon, despite the fiery nature he and Lyra shared, was always cautious, and caution came foremost in his mind now. Would he throw in his chips for a safer position, or was he going to recklessly risk it all in a half-formed plan to sway one of the Worlds' most powerful beings? The former was becoming, increasingly, a better option...

"Pan," Kirjava muttered warningly. He snapped out of it, thankful for his companion. What was he thinking?

"No one," Pan stopped and composed his thoughts. "No one _told_ us explicitly. It was just something we got with our job requirements. Parents of the Worlds, responsible for every single thing you can think about."

His dry humour made the Angel laugh humourlessly, maybe, even, a little sadly.

"You two," she stopped and amended her mistake. "You _four_ are far better Parents than I ever was."

Kirjava stopped her licking of her paw.

"You were a Parent?"

The next laugh that fell from the Angel's lips was just slightly more genuine.

"I thought that much was obvious," she let out another burst of water-on-crystal laughter before composing herself.

"You want me to bring you to Metatron? Do you know where he is?"

Pan had slunk over to the window and his gold-brown eyes were searching the battlefield for signs of the Angel. Kirjava and Kariel looked over only to see him shake his head.

"He's not there. Which means he's either held captive --"

"Or injured," Kirjava reasoned.

"Which means that he's at Lucifer's camp, a more condusive place to talk, though hardly welcoming," Kariel deadpanned, her recent sardonic manner so strange coming from an Angel who'd been the kinder of the two who helped them. Jeshu had always been cold and aloof. She'd been hardened and embittered by the tussles against the Forgottens and now the one with Lucifer. Although, she was hardly to blame.

"Please Kariel --"

"It goes against my better judgment."

"But it's --" Pan protested.

"There are no 'but's to this." She sighed heavily. "You and Kirjava and Will and Lyra, you're so young, so..._reckless_. One thought and you want to run away and do something big. You never think about the danger and, most of the time, you overlook the biggest things. Yet," she smiled wryly. "You always seem to have the best of luck."

Kirjava and Pan's hopeful and delighted expressions were instantly gratifying.

"So you --"

"Yes. Yes I will. After all," her smile got a little bigger, a little more genuine. As did the daemons. "What's life without recklessness?"

* * *

They flew high, because Kariel feared the worse if they were any closer to the ground. From so far up, no one knew which side was winning. Everything was covered by darkening clouds and blackness. The source was yet unknown.

"Kariel, how much longer?" Pan groaned, paws and claws aching after an hour of clutching onto her slippery ethereal body.

"A few more minutes, hopefully. It's not like you're the only ones aching," the Angel replied shortly, masked-over pants only breaking through a few times.

Wingbeats only slightly drowned out the roar and crash and seemingly infinite amount of hoarse yells from the fields. Pan and Kirjava shared a pained look thinking about what their friends were risking as they fended off Lucifer's armies, as they protected the gates to the Transit World with their lives.

Friends? It seemed like only a short while ago they had been enemies and locking each other up in basements and keeping secrets from each other. But now, it was like everything had simplified itself with the addition of another variable, Lucifer. Funny how different rational beings were from rational equations in Math.

"Kirjava, Pantalaimon --"

"Pan, please."

"Yes," Kariel conceded. "Kirjava, _Pan_, I think that is our destination."

The camp was like a black blanket over the brown earth, burnt ground and decrepit skeletons of lives past littered the border of it. There was hardly anyone in the camp at present; going in would not be as big a problem as flying there had. But looking at the blood-red sun -- _suns_, it was clear to see that it was not the same world at all.

"How did we get here?"

"Angels have been traversing the world for a long time," Kariel supplied unhelpfully, and left it at that as she swooped gracefully down, twisting into a spin when a spot of turbulence caused her concentration to break for a moment. She fanned her wings and lighted on a mossy rock, her imperturbable face looking steadily on, accessing the grounds for the signs of the enemy.

"There's no one about," she muttered to them, then conceded. "No one that I can sense at least. Just him"

"Where is he?" Kirjava whispered as loudly as she dared.

The Angel pointed a finger to one of the more tattered tents, its flap billowing in a ghostly breeze that whistled through the leafless trees. Gulping in trepidation, Pantalaimon and Kirjava started towards the tent, leaving the Angel sitting on the rock keeping watch.

* * *

**A/N: Hello hello hello! MR here once again.**

**Sorry for this wait. After a long period of self-imposed exile of this place, it took a while for me to come back and write this out. I actually planned on leaving the story on hiatus and just forgetting about it, but I remembered what all of you did for me, and honestly, you don't deserve that. All of you made my days when I was 12, 13, brighter every time you told me to continue the story. So it's about two more chapters, and that's it.**

**Hope you liked this one, and really, I'm very sorry about this looong delay.**

**Love and Cookies,**

**MR  
**


	32. A Step Back, A Flight Forward

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Chapter 32: A Step Back, A Flight Forward**

**Chapter Summary: Things are moving too fast, but nothing's wrong with a moment to count your losses.**

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**_For whoever is still reading this. Thanks._

* * *

_How do you greet an old rival_, Pantalaimon mused as he padded noiselessly towards the  
shabby canvas tent. _"Hey dude, long time no see?"_ hardly seemed to cut it.

But in reality, they didn't even need to think that far. Metatron was slumped in his quarters, chained and shredded wings held to the wall by manacles that looked as dirt-encrusted as they were menacing. His youthful, timeless face of before had sunken in, his golden hair frayed and matted. He looked a mess, and probably knew it as well. He looked up with eyes that were ancient as Xaphania's had been.

"Daemons," he acknowledged, before dropping his head back to his lap and fiddling with a parched leaf on the ground.

"Metatron, we --"

"You want me to help?" the Angel asked, letting out a laugh that was hardly cheerful. "Help you and risk my life?"

"We," Kirjava faltered as his pained eyes fell on her. "We only need information."

There was a long sigh, then a pause that felt like hours.

"What information?"

"What is Lucifer planning to do?"

The former Regent drew himself away from the ground and rose painstakingly on creaking, glowing limbs. His wings fluttered, but due to wind and not by his worn-down strength.

"I am a pale shadow of my former self, daemons," Metatron said, as if that was an explanation in itself. "I am...broken." He gestured to his torn back, the lash marks adorning every inch of his skin, his wings that would never lift his weight again. "I can no longer fly, nor run, nor be of any help. Why do you think I can?"

"Because..." But Pantalaimon's voice had to trail off, for there was no reason that he could think of.

"Because we think you have the knowledge that makes Lucifer great. That without you, he is nothing, he has no plan."

There was another humourless laugh.

"True. In that way," he smiled. "Lucifer is careless and impulsive to a fault. He wants this very badly --"

"This?" Kirjava couldn't help but interject, eyes still glued to the shattered wing structure and limp feathers on his back.

"What would any man want? Power, strength, superiority...the list goes on. Lucifer wants this very badly, after what the Creator did at the dawn of the Newer Worlds," there was more vicious joy than real happiness in his eyes. "He was thrown out of the Kingdom of Heaven eons back. He is still bitter about it."

"So he wants revenge?"

"Well, he plans to get all that he wants in one fell swoop."

"Which would be?"

"The Deyanira Magic. An ancient branch of destructive power, something no one has attempted since..."

"Since?" Pantalaimon felt like all he'd been doing all day was asking questions. Well, it felt nice getting answers though.

"Since the Knife was created, since the first war of Heaven against Hell. There'd been other Angels before Lucifer who'd fallen, and the Creator led his mighty army to battle. The explosion..."

The Angel trailed off and sat for a moment in silence.

"It wiped out everyone but its wielder," he shook his head. "The Creator, shocked at the utter extermination of everything, good and bad, removed himself and fled. He then started to create a world anew...The Newer Worlds." At their blank looks, he amended. "Your Worlds."

"The Transit World was a place where the two times met. There were the destroyed towns of all the Older Worlds, places where there had once been life. The Newer Worlds were the Creator's second attempt, his many regrets culminating in a huge work of art and _life_. The Older Worlds faded into the background, the Forgotten Capital included."

The daemons took a moment to absorb it all, their eyes bright like morning stars and their mouths gaping.

"The Transit World..."

"The Creator recognised that people needed different places to go. And places from which to learn that, everyone makes mistakes."

They nodded dumbly, unable to speak for minutes on end.

"And this Deyanira Magic?"

"Lucifer plans to destroy the Newer Worlds, and recreate them. The Battle on the Plains, it's just a diversion." The gasps of the two daemons were quickly drowned out by Metatron's voice that was rising with urgency. "He has just gone himself to the Transit World, where he plans to obliterate every world ever known with the magic."

Kirjava and Pantalaimon shared a fearful look as they grappled with the icy feeling of fear.

"Is there any way to make sure this doesn't happen?" Kariel's soft voice made the daemons turn in shock, but then they quickly relaxed as the young Angel walked towards the broken Regent. He turned away as she came close, like he was disgusted with her wholeness.

"Only one," he answered curtly.

"Which would be?" Kariel's blue eyes, rapidly fading to black, skimmed over his injuries with detached indifference.

He half-turned, eyes catching the sunset's glow.

"Blood," he said, still watching the red, as red as the word he'd just uttered, sun dip below the horizon.

"Sacrifice."

And the daemons' hearts sank, knowing what they needed to do.

* * *

Lyra stumbled and Will faltered as they took in the cracked plains of moving masses. It was simple enough to identify the two warring factions by their outward appearance, the cold, black armour of Lucifer's minion and the luminous, bloodstained white-blue-green of the Forgottens, shining ethereally in the darkening landscape. Yet, just by looking from one face to another, seeing expression after twisted expression, they looked one and the same. It seemed like they were united by the sheer hatred of the other side, if only to be divided by the crest they bore.

They felt a strong swooping feeling in their stomachs and a twist of deja vu. All over again, they felt the helplessness of a child, despite their older appearances, and the frustration that burned and fizzled and made them clutch each other's hands and stumble amidst the wreckage.

"Geneva! _Geneva_!" Lyra's voice wavered and broke and Will's weaved in between the cracks. Just for a moment, her heart welled up with love and misplaced joy. She looked back to throw him a smile and --

"Will! Behind you!"

He narrowly avoided the mace that came down in an arc, as the ogre behind him sensed a new presence. He fell into a barrel-roll that crashes him between the legs of the towering demon and his ears were fullfull_full_ of noise and Lyra screaming. His mind locked into reflex actions, his hand jumping to his belt and swiping at black limbs and grotesque faces with Zephyron, his voice yelling things he couldn't understand himself.

He cried out in savage delight as Zephyron brought another foe to the void. The red mist was enveloping, encompassing him and he flashed from one man to another, one beast to another, spelling death and disaster. He smiled, he hadn't lost it, just like Lyra-

Lyra!

He whirled around to find her, balled up on the ground ten paces away. Her eyes were misty and tired and her hair fell in a disarray. She had found a fallen sword of a fallen ally and was weakly trying to parry the blows that were raining down on her. While she was still putting up a decent fight, her animalistic childhood showing between the cracks of her intense fear, a gash on her forehead was steadily bleeding and her left hand seemed limp and inactive.

Amidst his lapse in concentration, a hard hit caught his hip, making him gasp in pain and double over. His world went black and red and pain until he found himself removed from the violence, the crashing, the screaming, and he stood. He was on a hill, staring up at numerous suns that were bleeding into a continuous sunset, with Lyra beside him. But they were not alone.

Jeshu and Kariel stood facing the sunsets. The female Angel, as happy and optimistic as she had been the last time they saw her, had been transformed into a serious silhouette against the rapidly diminishing sunlight. The taller Angel, too, stood like a pale, formidable statue near them, his noble face bleeding from the temple. His profile was set and expressionless. At his feet crouched --

"Pan!" "Kirjava!"

The humans' faces lit up with twin expressions of glee as their daemons turned uncharacteristically somber expressions to greet them.

"Pan, what's wrong?"

But it was Jeshu who answered.

"We are sorry --"

"Wait, what? Why? What's --"

"We are very sorry," Kariel intoned again, her whole body turning till they could see her face shining with tears.

In the minutes that followed, those self-same minutes that seemed like hours, they realised what destiny could do.

How destiny could hurt.

A lot.

* * *

And they were flying faster, faster, _faster_. Every swallow of non-existent saliva in parched throat was harder than the last. Their hearts beat like drums, harder, harder, yet everything felt sluggish, like they were living life in slow-motion playback.

"Will-"

"Shh. Don't speak," he whispered, in a manner he hoped was soothing. Then he regretted it as Lyra hunched over, all bold resolve whisking away in the rushing wind.

"Lyra," he started, then stopped. The second try at her name jarred before it got out of his mouth. Her eyes graced him with their desolate, far-off gaze as she busied her fingers with straightening her skirt. Talking to her shouldn't be this _hard._

"Lyra, you know that we're-"

"Not gonna make it?" she sighed. "Yeah."

"Well, I just wanted to say that, I mean, well, after all we've been through, I, well-" His linguistic abilities were fast fading into numbing nervousness.

"Oh, Will," she said, voice suddenly full with passion again, despite the sad note that drooped into another sigh. "Get over here."

As he scooted closer, questions patterned all over his face, he only saw her small smile – the one that was always, always, _always_ there, why hadn't he ever seen it before – before she grabbed his head and kissed him.

There was nothing remotely comforting about a desperate kiss, and there was none there. It was just a scorchingly, saddeningly and deliciously short moment where Lyra and Will said all the things they could not say in words. They fumbled with words, and perhaps it was right to say that they fumbled with their clumsy kisses as well, even with thirty years of maturity, they were still strangers to showing love.

Every time, her lips touched his with an amateur's precision, he found clarity in his muddled thoughts. Her hands pressed insistent bruises into his neck, he caught a whiff of jasmine and dandelion clocks, her eyes sparkled with fervour that Lyra, as a child, had always had. Yet, there was something more here than before. The tears wet his cheeks and hers, the fear resounded in both their chests.

"Lyra," he gasped, breaking away, his anxieties now foremost again.

"Shh," she mimicked, with a wry smile. "Don't speak." Then she leaned in again.

Two humans, two daemons and two angels flew far above the horizon, moving aimlessly towards their destination, hearts sinking with each wingbeat.

* * *

Lucifer's forces and Geneva's were waning. Everything was turning black and cold droplets of icy rain flashed down in sheets, minimalising visibility. Bodies of hundreds littered the fields.

"_Trust us. We must go and meet them. Then help will come and all this will be over."_

"_So you want me to fight despite the numbers, despite the fact that we're probably going to be __**destroyed**_. _Why should I trust you?"_

"_Because you have no other option."

* * *

_

**A/N: Thank you for reading. This update has taken far too long, and the story is dragging too much. It's sad, but life is being a pain now. Hope it gets better.**

**See you in two weeks.  
**

**MR  
**


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